Never A Happily Ever After
by Tighearnan
Summary: Post 2017 movie. Life is never easy, and royal life has it's own particular set of complications and challenges.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Some things to be aware of: The Prince's name is not "Adam" in this story. Sorry, I hope the change works for everyone. This is attempting to be kind of, sort of more in line with the France setting of the new movie. So it's kind of, sort of trying to keep in line with French nobility and politics of the (roughish) period setting of the movie. But research is a tricky mistress and mistakes will be made. As always, comments and critiques are appreciated as they fuel the incredibly egotistical soul that lies within the author._

* * *

"Mademoiselle!"

Belle turned, white dress rustling. The castle was bustling; happy villagers and happy servants, the Maestro's orchestra playing a constant stream of joyous music. Halls draped in garland and glitter. The sun had set below the mountains, and the castle was warm with lights as a breeze lapped in through the windows.

"Oh Belle, you were a vision on the dance floor!" Lumiere glowed, his smile as bright as his old flame.

"Why thank you, Lumiere." She beamed, extending an arm as he came to her.

"You my dear owe me a dance." He purred playfully, ever the flirt. Taking her hand he twirled her, making her laugh. "We shall spin and dip and make the others so jealous!"

"After the dinner, you'll have your dance, Monsieur." Promising with a kiss pressed to his cheek. "And the celebration is lovely. You did such an excellent job planning the entertainment."

"Two months of planning, it's my finest party yet!" He kissed his fingers to the air. "Anything for you and the Master. We're so grateful for you in our lives." Patting her hand, he looked past her. "You should go, Mademoiselle, Your prince awaits."

Belle turned to see him. Tall, handsome, refined. Turning back to Lumiere, she smiled. "Our dance after dinner."

He flashed an excited grin, walking away and nearly running into Cogsworth who was not as nearly as glimmering.

"And what are you smiling about?" He huffed like he had just discovered his clock was off by five minutes.

The former candelabra threw an arm around the majordomo's shoulders. "Oh Cogsworth, lighten up! Look at this castle, it's alive again!"

"We need to get to the hall, or have you forgotten?"

"And what were you doing with Lumiere?" The prince asked, genteelly offering an arm to escort her with.

She slipped her hand over arm, palm atop his. "Enjoying this day with one of my good friends. And what have you been up to?"

"I owed Mrs. Potts a dance before dinner." He announced, proudly leading her down the hall. Back straight, chest swelling, blue eyes bright, smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. The charming prince in her books. "And this day is a wonderful one. All because of you."

" _Us_." Correcting him, she watched his eyebrows lift. "It was both of us."

He chuckled. "Us then, Darling."

"B-Ansell." She quickly corrected herself, but it was too late. He laughed. Deep, amused, rolling.

"Well, you're improving. It's been a week since the last slip." Drawing her hand up, he kissed her knuckles. Eyes so teasing, she was still getting used to that. This Ansell fellow was a little more lighthearted than her beast. Or perhaps her beast was more lighthearted as Ansell. She was still sorting it out.

"You know, I knew you by one name for over a year." She pointed out keenly "And now you have an entirely different one-"

"It's been two months, Dear."

"It's still an adjustment, _Prince Anselme._ " she bumped him playfully with her hip, and he kept chuckling.

"You know, I-"

Hearing a pack of small shoes clattering down the hall, they turned and ducked out of the way as Chip led a large group of children. Each one was in their Sunday best and each and every one of the articles of clothing tousled and askew.

"Hi Chip." Ansell smiled.

"Hi Belle! Hi Master Ansell!" He hollered back at them, skidding off as someone shouted something about hunting ghosts and breaking curses.

"Bye, Chip." Ansell waved his fingers with the least amount of effort as it was clear the gesture would be unnoticed.

"What on earth." She pulled her hand to her mouth, laughing at the sight.

"Well I for one am glad _everyone_ is having fun." Slipping an arm around her waist, he stole a kiss. One that wasn't as chaste as he had initially planned.

Belle snaked a hand up, stroking his jaw with the pad of her thumb. She felt breathless afterward and closed her eyes when he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I love you if you haven't noticed." He whispered, his eyes sparkling happily.

"I love you too." Smoothing a hand over his silk waistcoat, she smiled up at him. "I love you so very much."

"Even without a beard?"

"Even without a beard, but possibly a little more _with_ a beard."

He laughed, his voice echoing through the stone that glowed in candlelight. "We should probably go." He nodded towards the end of the hall. "Everyone _is_ waiting for us. Come on."

The dining hall was packed. Long tables, more in other rooms, each cascading with food. Everyone chattering, laughing, drinking so much wine.

Cogsworth rose from the center table. He was seated towards the middle, all polished and powdered. An overstuffed, over prepared sentinel.

"Here we go." Ansell breathed out, squeezed her hand. Giving her a more proper elbow once more to walk with.

The entire room rose up. Servants, friends, love ones. All of them looking at the handsome pair expectantly. Suddenly the room felt too warm, and Belle's face too hot with blush.

"Presenting Prince Anselme Louis Fredric Ives-" Cogsworth boomed, pride peeking out from under his mustache. Clearly relishing his ability to announce royalty once more. Belle and Ansell stopped paying attention to the long name and even longer title, stealing glances at one another, trying so hard not to grin too widely, blush too red.

Ansell bowed to the room, and she followed his lead with a curtsy. He guided her to the middle table, the head of it in the back. Gilded and elegant, lions and scrolls adorning the legs. Glossy, brightly colored foods making the air heavy with enticing scents. Two large, sweeping chairs for them to sit at the head of it like rulers.

Maurice, the Potts', and all of their friends stood down the length of it. Beaming with pride and cheer.

The prince's chest felt fit to burst as he stole a glance at Belle. She was too beautiful for him, too good. And yet she was there, on his arm, shimmering and sweet. Her dress simple with blossoms twisting around it, glossy hair pulled back, eyes smiling at him when they made contact. At him. He still wasn't sure why he deserved it. Taking his place at the table, Belle by his side, he placed his fingers on the silk runner resting on top.

"We are so glad to have you here with us." Stately voice carrying as everyone watched him. Their golden prince; lions mane tied back, eyes so bright and shining. He made it hard for Belle to breathe in her dress and she had refused a corset. "This is a day I never thought would happen. Yet here we are, with old friends." He smiled at his staff, who bowed their heads. "And new ones." He looked to Le Fou with his irrepressible grin. "To celebrate our day rejoining the world. So we welcome you tonight, friends, family, villagers we've yet to meet, to be our guests."

The room roared with applause, and he gestured to the courses of food.

"Please, eat! And remember, we would love if you would join us in the ballroom afterward." Everyone sat, a loud clang of plates and chorus of happy conversations filling the castle. Turning, he met Belle's eyes. Clearly seeking approval from the one person it meant so much from. "So? How'd I do?"

She patted his arm. "Very nicely done." He pulled out her chair and she took her seat. Dancing had made her famished, and one of the servers immediately filled her goblet with a generous amount of wine as she eyed a small mountain of roasted game birds.

"That was quite the speech." Maurice smiled after a sip of his wine.

"I was never the one to give loud proclamations, so I had to practice this morning." He said, straightening a jacket sleeve with a hint of lingering nerves. "Several times."

"In the mirror." Belle added. "In his robe."

Maurice chuckled as the prince gave her a withering look.

"I thought that was just between us." He raised an eyebrow at her.

She looked breathtakingly mischievous. "I never agreed to that."

"And just how _do you_ know what his robe looks like?" Mrs. Potts asked curiously, reproachfully. A twinkle in her eye.

Belle's face was flushed as Ansell's eyes widened in guilt.

Maurice's eyes darted from one to the other.

Ansell turned slowly to his right. "Anything else you'd like to tell them, Belle?"

She cleared her throat and reached for her wine.

Mrs. Potts burst into laughter as she watched them twist. Which in turn, radiated down the table, though only the first few chairs had caught any of the conversation. "Oh you two, I'm just teasin'."

"That was a pretty good one, Mrs. Potts." Her father laughed into his cup. His daughter was not as graceful in her affections towards the prince as she thought herself to be. And as her father, it was hard to not be amused as she navigated new waters.

" _Papa_."

"You brought it on yourself, my dear." Maurice took a heaping spoonful of steaming vegetables. "Can someone please pass that lovely looking ham?"

Ansell soaked in the merriment at the table before remembering he needed to eat.

* * *

"May I?"

Lumiere looked up at his prince who had an arm outstretched. He had twirled and danced with Belle through three songs. She was smiling gaily, still stepping with him. "Only if the Mademoiselle is ready, Sire." He told the prince.

"Don't you have a beautiful lady of your own to dance with?" Belle asked her friend. "I'd hate to steal you away for so long."

Lumiere bowed, all aglow. "You are correct, Ma Cherie. And it has been a pleasure." Allowing Ansell to step in, he headed to Plumette to fetch her from a sous chef.

"You have a very full dance card." Ansel told her, placing his hand up next to her own. Even after dinner, the castle was still full of guests. Everyone was having a grand time under the shimmering chandeliers. Madame Gardenrobe relishing the spotlight, her voice clear and angelic.

"I'm not the only one, you've been quite popular yourself." He was in his dark blue suit, her favorite one. The tailor had remade it after he had shrunk back down to human size, and she had been sewn a new golden gown.

"Tonight has been magical." He said softly, slipping his hand around her waist and dancing more closely as the Maestro slowed the pace and the Madame sung a romantic aria. "But I must admit, I look forward to having the library all to ourselves tomorrow."

Belle smiled tiredly into his jacket. Her feet were beginning to hurt, and an aching need to be reclusive and reading was spreading within. "Oh that sounds so nice."

"Nice and wonderfully lazy." He said enticingly. "Maybe you'll even see me in my robe again."

She laughed. "Are you ever going to let me live that down?"

"Never." Flashing a wicked grin, he gazed deeply into her eyes. "You know, it's nice to-"

The door to the outside flew open in a gust of summer wind.

The entire castle froze.

All of the servants turned as white as sheets.

Ansell turned towards the door, still holding Belle's hand.

A man, bedecked in silks and jewels, entered the ballroom. Chin out, shoulders back, eyes shrewd. Cold. Pompous. An entourage of well-dressed men, soldiers trailing behind, following his wake.

"Mon Dieu." Cogsworth muttered under his breath.

"Oh _no._ " Mrs. Potts sighed in defeat, turning to look sadly at her husband.

A man stepped to the side as bannermen brought in flags. "Introducing the Duke of-" The pronouncement that followed was longer than Ansell's, and Belle didn't hear half of it as she watched her prince. First rippling with anger, then slowly retreat into himself.

" _Father_." Ansell growled.


	2. Chapter 2

The castle was clearing out, the night soured by the Royal procession. Servants quickly disappearing to their stations, their home suddenly chilled and dim.

"Ansell, who is this." The Duke asked quickly.

"Hello, father." The prince grumbled, bowing deeply. "I missed you too."

Lumiere took Maurice by the shoulders and pulled him towards the kitchen.

"Someone should go get Belle." The Maestro said from the safety of a corridor. His lovely wife was huddled next to him with their beloved dog, peering out.

"She has certainly shown she can take care of herself." One of the footmen interjected.

"Against the Duke though?" The Madame shuddered. "Perhaps you're right, my love."

"This is Belle." Ansell hesitated in presenting her, keeping her back ever so slightly. "She lifted the curse on the castle- _helped_ me lift the curse on the castle."

Belle studied Ansell carefully. Normally confident, intimidating; here he was cautious. Shoulders not so square, head slightly down so his eyes were forced upwards. Her prince, submissive?

His father looked down his nose. "And where are you from, my dear?"

She kept an eye on the soldiers and noblemen fanning out, invading their home. "From Villeneuve, your Grace." she pulled away from Ansell, forward, no fear shown. Curtsying, looking up at the Duke carefully. Noting the cold ice of skepticism seep over his face. It was quickly hidden and charm took over. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Sire."

His walking cane, encrusted with jewels, rapped on the marble floor. Ansell shrinking to the noise like a young lion cornered by a larger male. Paying his son no heed, he looked the girl over as one inspected a freshly purchased horse. Reaching out, the Duke took her hand and kissed it. Such a plain, simple thing. Not even a wig. "Pleasure to meet you as well my dear. And your family? Where do you hail from?"

"My father is an artist in the village." Black, thick worry crept into her stomach, hardening into a knot. His eyes were shrewd, holding back so much darkness.

"Lovely." His sudden lack of interest was palpable. "I'm _sure_ you must need to go home, it was wonderful to meet you. I can see why my son is charmed."

A brazen lie, she drew in a breath. "Thank you, you have a wonderful son." Belle was livid and wanted to tell him she was already home. That, however, felt dangerous.

" _Wonderful_?" He was puzzled as if he was going to ask if she had confused the prince with another man. "Well, I suppose he's changed some during all these years. Though I can see you still have a penchant for parties, my son."

There was a snicker from the shadows, and Belle could see a young man done up in the finest Parisian fashion, watching them from the wall. Ansell's eyes darted to the man, seething at his presence.

" _Anselme_." The Duke called out firmly.

He jerked his head back into the conversation. "Your Grace, we were celebrating the lifting of the curse tonight-" The prince began.

"Ah yes, well, son you and I have some very important things to discuss." Studying all of the common folk leaving, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Tomorrow of course, after we've recovered from our long trip from Paris."

"Of course, Father." Ansell dipped his head. "If I may, I'd like to have a word with Belle."

"Certainly, I'll be in my chambers."

Watching the man leave, Belle felt a dread she couldn't shake away.

"Your room." He whispered, guiding her up the stairs and slipping into the bedroom.

"Brother!"

Belle watched Ansell bristle. If he had still had fur, she was certain his scruff would have been standing on end.

The young man in the finest Parisian fashion came forward. Smiling, but studying carefully. His mind a finely tuned piece of clockwork behind the eyes. "Anselme-"

"Leon." He said stiffly leaving Belle to give a forceful hug. "You're looking well."

"You look handsome as always." Glacier blue eyes slid to the girl his brother was clearly so enamored with. "And who is _this_?"

"Belle." She spoke up, curtseying. "And you, Monsieur?"

"Did this old boy never mention he had a _brother_?" He asked, playfully. "Leon de le Blanc, Viscount, the prince's _older_ , half-brother."

"Always so quick to remind us all you're older." Ansell puffed.

He ignored the prince, taking her hand and kissing it. "He actually has two of us to annoy him but the other's away. It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear. You were telling father you're from Villeneuve?"

"Yes."

"You must show me around sometime." He was an excellent liar, but not good enough to slip past her.

"Whenever you'd like." She flashed a veneer of a smile. "And it was lovely to meet you, Sire, but I'm afraid I must be going."

"Of course, Mademoiselle." He bowed, looking up at his brother. " _Anselme_ ," He brother clearly did not like being called by his full name "let us have a drink tonight. Catch up. I brought a lovely armagnac to celebrate your health."

"Yes, that sounds wonderful." He lied poorly, leading Belle up the stairs.

"Your brother?" She asked as they slipped into her room. Reeling from the news.

"Two half brothers. From my father's mistress." He explained, carefully shutting the door. "His _favorite_ mistress." Anxiety rattling around in his chest, making his ribs feel too tight for his lungs.

"You looked like you wanted to strike him."

"It's how he raised us." Pulling at the neck of his shirt, everything began to feel too constricting.

"And they actually knew about the curse?" She asked quickly, angrily. A flash of fire in the brown eyes."That you were suffering?"

"My father thought intervening would curse him as well. My brothers are… my brothers." He told her. Watching the door cautiously. "And this is technically my father's castle, I can't kick him out. He's always hated the country so he let me take it, left me to my own devices."

Belle wrapped her arms around herself, voice low. "Do you want me to leave?"

He sighed heavily, a great stone on around his neck shaped like a Duke suddenly dragging him down. "I don't _want_ you to." Walking over, placing his hands on her shoulders, his sad eyes locked onto her own. "But it might be safest. I haven't seen the man in years and I'm… not the son he raised me to be anymore. I can't see him liking that."

Belle was silent, hesitant. Not wanting to leave him to fight by himself.

"This shouldn't be that long of a stay." Rubbing her arms, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "He'll want to go back to court, enjoying the riches of his very shallow life. And then we'll have a bit of peace." Resting his forehead against her own, he gazed deeply into her eyes. "A bit of peace and quiet in your library."

"Be careful." Linking her arms around his neck, the air felt charged, uneasy. In the glow of the candles, she kissed him in a way that already missed him more than words could tell. "I need to change and gather my things." She whispered.

"Take one of the horses from the stables. He won't miss it." There it was. That familiar pain behind those blue eyes. The sadness that used to lash out. She hadn't seen it in ages, it had left so long ago when he was all hair and horns. But the beast's eyes were back because of the Duke. Staring right at her, breaking her heart.

"I suppose Papa could use some company." She managed, not wanting to let go of him when he seemed to need support more than ever.

"I love you, Darling." He told her, feeling her hands slip away. Wishing they wouldn't.

* * *

"We have so much food leftover you _must_ take some." Mrs. Potts insisted in a way that was clear she was trying to hide worry. Hastily, all thumbs, she was rolling large portions of meat into parchment.

"Mrs. Potts, thank you but Belle and I simply couldn't." Maurice began. He was mildly worried, and somewhat anxious Belle had not yet found him as he had been given a short edification on the Duke.

"You must, you must." She began to sound aggressive, tucking wrapped baguettes and cheese into a saddle basket. "We simply can't go through it all."

Most of the staff was huddled between the kitchen and the servants quarters. Avoiding the invasion, watching their beloved Englishwoman become more and more unraveled.

"We were going to give so much of it to the vill-" she struggled with tying a knot. "To- OH BLOODY HELL." A server ducked as a wheel of Brie went soaring through the air.

"Mrs. Potts!" Her husband quickly enveloped her in a hug as she wept.

"I can't stand that man. I can't stand him, John." She held onto her husband, shaking her head. "It's been so lovely since the curse broke but now that wretched old man-"

"Oh Love," he kissed away the tears as Maurice and a scullery maid went and cleaned up the brie. "He was always gonna come back. We all knew it."

The door creaked.

Everyone turned to see Belle. Their Belle. Back in her simple dress, boots on, cloak resting on her shoulders as she carried a large satchel.

Mrs. Potts nearly sobbed.

"Bernard, could you please saddle Roman and Philippe?" she asked a stable boy kindly, shucking off the bag and briskly clearing the space between herself and Mrs. Potts. Before she knew it, Mr. Potts had been released and she was the one being squeezed so tightly.

"I'll see to the horses myself." Mr. Potts said as he slipped out.

"No one wants you to leave, Deary." A rattled sigh came from the older woman.

"I'll be back." She hugged, pulling back and staring into her friend's kind eyes. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

Lumiere chuckled as he came over and joined the embrace. "You are nothing if not resilient." He kissed the side of the girl's head.

"Having you here all summer, uninterrupted, has been a blessing." Mrs. Potts tucked a stray lock of hair behind the girl's ear. "I know you'll be back, but we'll _all_ miss you. No matter how short your time away.

She nodded, but her brows knit in concern. "Mrs. Potts, ever since his father arrived Ansell is so-"

"We won't let it happen again." Mrs. Potts kissed her forehead in her customary motherly fashion, determined to not repeat history. "We'll protect him the best we can, we will."

"Thank you." Stifling back tears she scanned the room. "Where's Cogsworth?"

"Oh, you know, running around the castle in a state of panic." Lumiere quipped. Letting them go, he gazed at Belle fondly. "This castle will not be so happy with you gone, my mademoiselle."

Taking a deep breath, steadying herself, Belle stooped to catch Chip as she went around saying her goodbyes.

* * *

Ansell breathed heavily, trying to brace himself as he stood in the hallway near the door.

* * *

Belle turned the large gray horse around, looking back at the castle glowing in orange lights. The other villagers were heading out as well in their carriages, carts, and on foot. Maurice stopped Philippe from a distance, giving her time and silence.

* * *

Ansell tugged at his collar. Breathing through his nose and mumbling to himself how much he wanted out of all of the frippery the Madame had insisted he wear. The hall was dim, people he didn't know nor care to know bustling back and forth. The entourage of the Duke infesting their once happy home.

It was times like the one before him where he wished he was still seven feet of teeth and claws. It would have made it so much easier.

Peering out the hall window, he saw a small red dot on a horse out on the grounds. Paused, looking at the castle, not moving away with the others.

* * *

"Are you okay, Belle?"

She turned to see Le Fou. He was saddened and concerned, guiding his pony towards her.

"I'm alright, thank you." She pulled the hood of her rose colored cloak up, turning the Percheron around and riding off with Le Fou and her father.

* * *

The dot left.

Everything was heavier around him, harder to breathe, harder to move. Taking one last breath, he went to the door and turned the knob. The room felt darker, an undercurrent making him feel anxious. A suit adorned with a wig and heels stood by the window.

Leon turned, giving an easing smile. "Brother! Please, come, come." Gesturing the prince inside, he walked over to a filigree adorned table, crystal glasses and bottle of dark amber liquid carefully laid out.

"It's good to see you, Brother." He said cautiously, walking over.

"No wig? Rather dressed down for your tastes."

"I'm trying something new." He watched Leon uncork the bottle, carefully pouring out a generous measure.

"For the girl? Her name- Belle. That's right. Was it Belle?" He shifted an eyebrow, reading the prince like one of the books he cherished so much. "Wanting you more… _Simple?_ "

"That's enough, thank you." Ansell watched Leon pour another. "I see your tastes haven't changed. Is that suit new?"

"From a fine tailor in Paris." He preened.

"It's very…Opulent. Very royal."

"Thank you. My mother always said red was my color." Handing Ansell a glass, he raised the other. Liquid shimmering like stained glass by candlelight. "Brother, to your health."

Ansell hesitated, but toasted his brother and drank slowly. "To _our_ health. Where's Francis? How is he?"

"Oh, you know baby brother." He wet his lips slowly. "Beautiful, _popular_. A man of very expensive tastes in everything. In love with Paris, in love with court. Currently at Versailles, sampling the delights." Setting the cup down, he breathed deeply. Invigorated. "You must come enjoy our little paradise. It'll be like old times. And the court would love to see you, the _heir returned_."

"I never really cared for court." He said, tactfully. Running his thumb along the top of the glass. "Never suited me. Which is why I stayed here, traveled in when needed."

"How could I _forget_ , you were never one for the social politics. Ever the young lion of the house." Leon's chuckle was calculated, his eyes sharp. "And why would you travel so far to be with people you hated _so much_ when you could live here and be worshiped. Slathered in riches and excess of your own choosing."

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He took a sip. "It's different now, Leon."

"Oh yes. Your little party for your servants and villagers." He chortled through his teeth. "Very sweet of you, brother. Very _unlike_ you."

" _Leon."_ Ansell rumbled. His posture stiffening.

"Just a bit of teasing, Ansell. You must remember how much I loved to ruffle your feathers- or fur if that's more appropriate now." Taking a sip, the viscount watched his brother. Stronger than before. Bigger. Not a soft, weak muscled noble who had spent his days moving minimally inside a palace. The carriage of a man who went outside and worked, the presence of a man who could seriously injure him in a fight. Perhaps some of the monster's physical exertions affected his human form. Running in the forest, dragging a buck down with his fangs and claws, fighting bears, murdering wolves. Gnashing, clawing, brutalizing. What a horrid thing. Perhaps the savage monster was still there under the surface. "I _will_ be sincere, give you a bit of advice."

Ansell shifted his weight, cautiously watching Leon take a long drink.

"I know you've been away for quite some time. So you may not remember how things are, what's expected." Raising his glass up to the light, he studied the cut of the crystal, the way the light danced over his drink. "As a courtesy, as your _brother_ , I wish to give you fair warning." His keen eyes locked onto the piercing blue ones. "Father expects you to come to court. You are his heir, you have been away for some time. You must make an appearance to announce to the court you are well again. He is here to take you back. For a week a least, though he may expect a month. You'll have to attend court and play the games you loathe so much." Leaning in, he said gravely. "And she will _not_ be allowed to come with you."

He wanted to growl like the beast. Instead, he let the silence, the gravity, consume the space between them.

Leon finished his drink in one fell swallow, carefully setting his glass down. "Now, I must go to my quarters. It's rather late and there is a girl from Spain who wanted to come with us and _see the sights_." Brushing past the prince, his heels clicked towards the door.

"Your armagnac." Ansell reminded him.

"Yours, I brought half a case of some less-aged." He sniffed, opening the door.

"Leon." He called out, but would not turn to face the door.

Leon paused in the doorway, hand on the knob.

"If I would have died, or had the curse not be reversed-" His voice grew. "You would have become a legitimized prince."

"That is correct, Ansell." It was like a barb, twisting into Leon's chest. His fingers tightening on the knob, he released his grip and slipped away. "Welcome back."


	3. Chapter 3

It was hard for Belle to rest.

She rose too early and found herself unable to return to sleep. Holding her pillow, staring at the simple wooden wall. Wanting to wake up in a much bigger bed with a view of a strapping young man sitting in a thick armchair by the window. Idly sipping his coffee and reading, waiting for her to wake so they could go down to breakfast.

After struggling some, she rose and dressed for the day. Taking her time, slowly going downstairs. It was far too early for all of the household chores. Nonetheless, she did what she could. Lighting the fire, sweeping the floor, making a list of things that could use repairs or tinkering, making a bracing cup of tea the way Mrs. Potts had shown her before settling into one of a few books she had managed to pack.

Curled in a chair, wrapped in a blanket was how Maurice found her before sunrise. "My daughter has never been an early riser." He exclaimed, making his presence known. "Seeing her up so early often means things are wrong."

* * *

Ansell was seated at the servant's table, staring into a miserable cup of coffee. Slouched, distant, dim-eyed.

"And what's got you here, Master?" Mrs. Potts knew all too well. The boy was hiding; his family would never stoop to even considering the help's quarters.

"I couldn't sleep, needed the silence." He muttered, golden hair tumbling into his face.

* * *

"I couldn't sleep." She said, tucking a ribbon between the pages of her book. "And I didn't want to wake you, Papa."

"You wouldn't have woken me." Walking over he bent over and kissed the top of her head. Rubbing her shoulder soothingly, wishing he could do more. "I know last night ended rather… Tragically... but I am glad to see you."

* * *

"Do you always get up this early?" He muttered into his cup.

"Every day." She walked over to him, briskly. "Someone has to make sure the castle starts. Who made you coffee?"

"I didn't want to bother anyone." Ansell hunched.

"No wonder it looks like the dog made it." She pulled it away from the prince before he could protest. "You're good at lot of things, Master. Noble things. But you could stand to learn a thing or two about basic skills. And I know that's seen as work for the staff, but I suspect you'll find yourself married to a woman who doesn't like to be waited on."

* * *

"I know I'm not back often but I do miss you." She squeezed his hand, leaning her head against his arm.

Her daughter felt much smaller in that moment. More vulnerable, though she was fighting it. Ever his stubborn girl. "It's quite alright, Sweetheart. You're having a rather… Unique courtship."

* * *

"You know, if you've got something on your heart-" Dumping the sludge in the bin, wiping it out with a rag. "I won't judge, Master. And I won't gossip."

His ears turned red, he looked up sheepishly.

"You two aren't as discreet as you think you are." She hinted.

* * *

"But you lived with Ansell for over a year." He said with great understanding, looking down at the melancholy face. Wishing it was just as easy as it had been to cheer her up when she was little. "Before you knew what he really was. And… Well... you've never been one for tradition."

Belle smiled into his palm.

"So things are different, Belle, and I _understand_ and accept the changes going on." Leaning forward, wanting to hug her, keep her safe from all the ills around them. "And it's okay to be upset and to express it."

She looked up into his kind eyes. Clearly frustrated. It crackled across her face like the embers popping in the fireplace. "Let me get you some tea."

"Belle." He watched her go to the kitchen and pace.

* * *

" _Fine_. It's awful not falling to sleep with her next to me." He managed. Honest and raw. "Or waking up with her there. To know when I'm out that she'll be home when I return. Or if she's out she'll return. She belongs with us! She's apart of our home, Mrs. Potts. And to feel his presence in _our_ home." Scratching his nails across the tabletop, hands balling into fists, eyes burning. "I can't stand it."

* * *

Bowing her head, bracing herself against the kitchen table were the kettle sat she drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I know I've come back before to stay with you but this is different." Shaking her head, her words finally wavered in anger. All she could see were their eyes, so cruel. And the son anguished by their presence. "This is so painful."

* * *

"I know this has you all knotted up inside. And it was a terrible ending to an otherwise joyous night, but perhaps you can work on your patience and tact right now." She said gently.

The young man's mouth dropped into a slight pout.

"You've grown by leaps and bounds this last year or so. But it wouldn't be life without some unneeded stress." She patted his shoulder. What a long way their boy had come. A year ago she could have never been so honest. He would have roared. "It's okay to miss her. I know she misses you too."

He was quiet, in thought.

"You two have gone a stretch or two without one another."

"This feels different." Her face. He couldn't get over the sadness it wore when she had slipped out the kitchen entrance with her father. Not allowed to stay in the place she considered home.

* * *

"Because you were forced out." He went over to her, his heart breaking at her sadness. "I know it hurts, dear." Maurice began slowly. "But perhaps this is a lesson in patience."

Belle looked up at him.

"Life is rarely ever easy." He explained. "And I suspect the royal life of _Prince Anselme_ is a tad complicated. You two will have your own trials, and those require patience."

She exhaled, deeply. Looking up at him with wet eyes. "I suppose you're right."

"Sometimes I do know a thing or two."

Belle studied the floor in thought, nodding slowly in agreement. Taking the kettle she poured him a cup. "The latch on the gate needs to be fixed again."

A small smile emerged as he took the cup. "Do you need any materials?"

"No, I think we have everything in the shed."

* * *

"Are you feeling guilty?" Mrs. Potts moved away, bustling about the kitchen as there was work to be done.

The golden head nodded.

"Then why don't you go do something that makes you feel less so." She hinted, rustling the wood and the tinder in the massive stone fireplace.

"She didn't want to leave." Every other time she had gone back to the village it had been of her own volition. "I made her."

The Englishwoman paused. Gathering up her skirts, she quickly left, rustling around in the back before returning with something wrapped in brown paper. "You know, it is awfully early out. The way your father and brother drink, they won't be up 'til near midday."

Ansell looked up, firelight dancing on his face.

Mrs. Potts tossed the package on the table in front of him. Watching him rip open it slowly. "Maybe you can use these since they finally arrived."

A smile came across his lips as he pulled out simple brown hunter's boots.

"We had to send one of the boys to the town to find it all for you." She watched him lifted out folded blue fabric. "I know you didn't specify, but she always seems to fancy you in blue."

Getting up, still clutching the shirt, he hugged her tightly.

* * *

There was a knock at the door.

Tossing a fresh log on the fire Belle wiped her hands on her apron and walked over. Tilting her head suspiciously as it was far too early to have anyone poking around.

Opening the door found a familiar, handsome face hidden by a tricorn hat and dressed in commoner's clothes. Rugged and unassuming. A new look that suited him well.

Maurice glanced up from a sketch he was working over breakfast.

Ansell lifted up a basket in his hand and opened his mouth. That look, she knew it. His smug, self-satisfied look from surprising her.

Belle raised a wry brow. "I'm sorry, Monsieur, I don't need to buy any eggs and milk for the day. We have plenty."

His eyes widened, stunned, as she shut the door.

Barely suppressing a chuckle, her father shook his head. "That's a strange way of missing someone." Taking a sip from his cup, he ignored the face his daughter made at him.

"You're not very funny." The prince's voice said from the other side of the door.

She giggled, opening it.

"And it's coffee." He corrected, coming in, taking his hat off and hanging it. Before he could say anything else, arms were around his neck and he was the recipient of a long, deep kiss. A kiss that made his heart feel too large and too fast.

Belle released him, smiling into his jacket after he pecked the tip of her nose.

"What do I get for also bringing some books?" he asked playfully, seductively. Toying with her skirt. Turning, he saw her father and his face became red. Even clearing his throat didn't save Ansell's voice from cracking. "Hello, Siiir."

"Good morning. Nice to see you here." The poor lad, he was so awkward from time to time.

Belle watched Ansell stew but kept on. "Why on earth are you in the village so early?" pulling playfully on his waistcoat, the brown eyes studied him. Hair down, a bit of rakish stubble, that navy blue shirt. She was having so many thoughts not appropriate for mixed company.

"You know how I get up early and go for a walk before coming back for coffee." She took the basket from him and he followed like an eager puppy.

"Yes, but you have coffee in the parlor in your chambers.' she began taking the contents of the basket out.

"True, but I decided to take a walk… to the stables… so I could have coffee elsewhere."

"Ah, a change of scenery." she pulled out a freshly baked baguette and pursed her lips. Looking around the kitchen at the heaps of food they had already been saddled with.

"I wasn't the one who packed the basket." He admitted, scuffing a boot on the floor.

"I can tell by the excessive amount of sugar, cream, and butter." Belle put the kettle on. "Papa would you like some fresh bread with your breakfast? Coffee?"

"You know, I'm quite good." He said, wiping the corners of his mouth, taking his plate away. "I do believe I need to _take a walk._ He said, pointedly.

Belle watched him as he set the plate away, kissed her cheek, and slipped out.

Ansell waited for a moment. Listening to the door latch, to Maurice's shoes disappear on the cobblestones. Finally, he hooked an arm around Belle's waist and stood behind her, smiling into the nape of her sweet smelling neck.

She giggled, eyes shutting blissfully. "You couldn't wait a day?"

"Not after the way you had to leave last night." Pressing his lips to her neck, his fingers stroked her hip. "Hmmn."

Belle turned and kissed him passionately, feeling him flex forward to her in anticipation. A dangerous game to play with him after being apart. Soon she was lifted up on the table, the kiss long, deep, full of unspoken promises. She pulled away and gazed dreamily at his mouth before finding his eyes. Intensely blue and fixated on her. She placed a palm on his chest to stop him from ducking back in for more. "Whoooa." She shuddered, catching her breath.

Ansell stopped, looking a bit flustered he was being asked to halt his proceedings. "Huh?" The prince breathed out in a hormone-addled stupor.

"A-Ansell." She swallowed thickly, shaking her head. "As uh… Much as I enjoy this-us. We... can't."

Exhaling, looking like a drowning man coming up from air he titled his head to the side.

"We're absolutely terrible at practicing restraint when it comes to this." She reminded him, gesturing from herself to him.

Bracing himself against the table, his pained eyes flickered to Belle. "You know it's not every day I hear "no" from you." Clearing his throat, he shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"And trust me, I'm _very_ sorry. It's very hard to stop you." Her eyes lingered all over him longer than she would have liked. "But my father won't be gone nearly long enough for us and I _do_ have things to do. Things that will never get done if we… do... what we're very good at."

He wanted to put his hands on her hips again but pulled them back towards himself, pursing his lips. Needing a moment, several moments to compose himself. Finally seeing the light at the end of his stupid, he remembered Mrs. Potts' words. "Could...I help you I with your things that need doing?" Fumbling through the words, having to relearn how to talk. God, he could use some of that coffee.

Belle cocked her head in surprise. "Really?"

"I haven't done… Most things I assume you do." He hedged, still trying to settle himself down. "But I can try?"

She chuckled in amusement. "First of all, Dearest, they're called chores." Sliding off the table, she tugged his waistcoat to get him to follow. Knees still a bit wobbly. "Well, there's a first time for everything. I can teach you." Looking over, she gestured to the kettle. "We can start with making coffee? Move from there?"

* * *

Maurice paused at the garden gate.

There was the prince, ruler of their province in hunter's boots and course breeches. Shirtless, hauling a large cord of wood into the house as Belle came around the side of the house with the chicken eggs in a basket.

"Did you have a nice walk, Papa?" She asked. Gaze trailing up, following Ansell, idling on Ansell. Those impressively defined back muscles she enjoyed very much.

"Yes, it was quite… nice." He cleaned his glasses as if it would clarify the scene. His daughter came over and leaned against the fence with him.

Ansell came back out. All noble milk bottle tan and not so noble rippling muscles. Stopping, he grinned. "Hello, Sir."

"Your highness." He tipped his hat.

"Please, Ansell."

"Sorry, force of habit. Ansell." The lad went back to the chopped wood and began stacking the excess. Turning, he had to do a double take of his terribly distracted daughter. "Belle?"

"Hm?" The brown eyes squinted thoughtfully.

"Why is the prince chopping wood?"

Ansell bent over and her head absently tilted to follow. "I told him I had these things called chores… and…. he wanted to help." Her hands twisted on the basket's handle. "So he's been learning."

"Like chopping firewood?"

"He's good at that." She mused, dreamily. The din of the village bustling through its morning having disappeared all around her.

"Uh-hm." Seeing why exactly his daughter thought the prince excelled at chopping firewood, Maurice drew up a brow. "You didn't happen to tell him chopping wood requires him to take his shirt off?"

"He said he was getting too hot."

"Hmn. Anything else he's good at that isn't princely?"

"He helped me fix the latch on the gate."

"But mostly firewood?"

"He's really good at that. Very strong."

Maurice raised his brows, continuing with his business, entering through the gate and heading up the stairs. And here he thought his daughter was more into the intellectual type. Belle trailed behind him and he was mildly worried she may trip on a step. "You know, might be nice having another set of hands here if he's keen to learn. It'd certainly keep him out and away from his father."

"I do like the sound of that," Ansell agreed as he brought some extra firewood, grabbing his shirt from a chair. "And I do like helping and I wouldn't mind learning more." Using his shirt to wipe his face off, he slipped it back on. "But I have to sneak back. So maybe another morning?"

Belle set the basket down and walked over. Stopping in front of him, taking the time to tie his shirt. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too." Stealing a kiss, he smiled against her mouth "I do love you, desperately."

"I love you too." Tying a bow with the laces she pecked his lips. Picking up his waistcoat and handing it to him. "Don't be a stranger."

"Never, Darling."

* * *

"Son." The Duke stood up from his desk, watching his heir walk in. "We searched the grounds for you-"

"I prefer an early morning ride." Straightening his cravat, he entered quickly. The room was so dark, intimidating. Smelling of oak and expensive flowers. "Then I went to my chambers and changed into something more befitting my Grace-"

"Yes, except you look inappropriately plain." A dismissive sniff of the air. "This fashion may pass as noble in this little province of mud and twigs, but it will not pass muster in French Court."

"You wish me to attend." Taking a seat across from his father, he cleared the dryness out of his throat. Rolling his shoulders, feeling far less tightly wound since he had gone to the village and seen Belle.

"I wish you to attend, yes." He poured wine into a goblet, then another. "You've been out of the noble world for a long time. You must assert your power." extending a glass, he looked at his son firmly.

"As you wish, father." Taking the wine, he pressed it to his lips. "I hope your trip was easy."

"It was fine." The Duke took a long drink, slowly twirling the stem of the glass between his fingers. "It is a winding road to Paris, and coming back to this country reminds one how small and insignificant our province is."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." Ansell inspected all of his father's new, glittering rings. "I find our lands quite rich. Our forest full with game, farms bountiful with food, our towns bustling-"

"Yes, our towns." Pounding a finger on a stack of papers, he tossed them across the desk. "Will you explain this?"

Ansell took the papers and skimmed the contents. "My decree for lowering taxes."

"And why on Earth would you do that?" The Duke leaned back in his chair.

"Because I no longer spend our money so frivolously." Chin tilted up, eyes blazing in earnestness. "I now prefer a life more simple. One with much less excess. And I would like our subjects to know they are appreciated."

"Simple." He chuckled deeply. Jaded. "And your soiree for the village? That was _hardly_ simple, my son."

"Paid with money leftover from my old coffers, father." He took a sip, needing it. "My parties will now be fewer, and more open. Friendlier to those who we depend on."

"Your last party, before your… most unfortunate accident." The elder pulled the paperwork back, studying the lines on his son's face. The boy was different. Not so slight. He hadn't noticed the change until then. No longer lithe in body. Strong, a bit common. "You were looking for a noble wife."

Ansell's gaze darted to the side. "You know the stipulations of the enchantress' curse."

"Yes, how could I forget." Drumming his fingers on the desktop. Irked, impatient with magic that had never been asked for. " _True love_."

His son cocked his head to the side in anticipation. The barb. The needling at Belle.

"We can discuss your prospects later." He dismissed with the wave of a hand. "You have just returned to us, I expect you to have a bit of fun, get it out of your system before we begin thinking of finding you a suitable, noble match."

It wasn't the time, nor the place. Ansell nodded his head in the most non-committal way.

"Now, while we won't speak of who will warm your bed." The Duke raised a brow. "We will speak again of this tax cut."

"The crown has their taxes, and we have ours. What I was taxing before was unconscionable. I-"

"You will not lower the tax."

Setting his goblet down, he sat up straight. Leaning forward, the tenseness returning to his shoulders. "Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" Raising his voice, the Duke was a deep, foreboding man. As dangerous-sounding as his eyes were to look at. "You. Will. Not. Lower. The. Tax."

"Father, this was _my_ tax-"

"And I will keep it, boy." chest out, eyes cold, he looked down his nose at his son.

"I wish to show our people-"

"You do not seem to remember who's castle this is-"

"You do NOT have to educate me, father." No longer able to restrain it, Ansell snarled, hands gripping the arms of the lacquered chair.

"PERHAPS I DO." Rising from his chair, he roared down at the prince. "This is NOT your castle! The money that flows to you is NOT yours. Nothing is yours until I take my last breath, boy."

Ansel jumped up so abruptly his chair fell over. A growl formed deep in his chest. The house, the home at risk. The territory challenged.

"Do not cross me." He warned. "You may have been a beast for years but in this body, you are but a whelp."

His eyes narrowed. "Choose your words careful-"

"DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME HOW TO SPEAK TO YOU!"

"WHERE WERE YOU ALL THESE YEARS!" Ansell roared back. "WHERE WERE YOU? WHEN THIS CASTLE FELL INTO RUIN? WHEN YOUR SUBJECTS SUFFERED? WHEN YOU ABANDONED THIS PROVINCE? WHEN YOU ABANDONED YOUR SON?!"

"These are not your things." Looking his wild-eyed heir up and down he felt disgust towards the prince. Still savage in the heart, the fool. "You are an instrument of this family. And it would be wise of you to remember your place."

Ansell huffed. Turning away, pacing, golden mane falling out of its tie in large loose locks. Nervously he pushed it back and out of his eyes.

"If you cannot understand your station and listen to instruction then perhaps you need to be moved, permanently."

His son looked up.

"Perhaps you don't deserve the time to recover." Threatening, snarling, commanding the room. If the objects had still been alive the candles would have quaked. "Perhaps you need to be at Versailles, wed to a woman of nobility. Providing me an heir." He threatened, resting his hands on the table, leaning forward, challenging the young lion of the castle. Locking eyes with him, watching him bend ever so slightly. "And if you decide to fight that then perhaps half a dozen of my men will drag you kicking and screaming all the way back. Unless of course, that's too easy for the animal in you."

A moment passed between them. A beat. Ansell dipped his head, snorting through his nose. "That will not be necessary." He grumbled.

"I didn't hear you."

"I said that will not be necessary." He lifted his voice, his words full of too many teeth as he tried to stay strong. "I understand my station, father."

"Address me properly."

"I understand my station, Your Grace."

"And you understand you own nothing?"

The prince nodded his head.

" _Say it_." He barked.

"I own nothing," Ansell said through clenched teeth.

"And you understand your life is not your own, but the crown's."

"I understand my life is the crown's." Trying desperately to remember the happiness of the morning, the thoughts failed him.

"And you know your place."

"I know…. My place." Ansell forced out.

The Duke lifted his chin, drawing his hands behind his back. His son before him, head down, eyes averted, boiling in submission. "Good." he exhaled. "I will be leaving soon. This castle is mine, but my place is in Versailles. Leon will stay, as will some of our staff. They will prepare you for your arrival to court where you will preside for a month at least. Do you understand?"

"Yes, your Grace." Shoulders slouching, desperately wanting to be the biggest monster in the room once more.

"I'm done with you. You may leave." A dismissive hand was flicked towards the door. "Cogsworth will have you until supper. You must be caught up on world affairs."

Ansell said nothing as he prowled out of the room, slamming the door shut as he left.


	4. Chapter 4

_Part 1 of 3_

* * *

*Day One*

* * *

Ansell held his boots in one hand, carefully tip-toeing through the sleepy hallways of the castle in his stockings. He had timed his escape perfectly. By the time he rode into Villeneuve, it would be sunrise. Which meant spending another warm morning with his favorite bookworm.

The door that led out to the to the stables was so close. It taunted him. Beyond it lie his horse, his saddle, and a brief dalliance with freedom.

Claws clicked rhythmically on the stone floor.

Freezing, he slid around a pillar for cover but it was too late. The paws pattered over and Froufrou gazed up at him expectantly. Wide, open doggy smile as the tail that could be mistaken for Plumette's duster wagged.

"No." He whispered.

Froufrou cocked his head to the side, letting out a frustrated grumble.

"No, Froufrou-" gently he nudged the dog with his foot. "Go back."

Snuffling the stocking, the little dog licked a toe before letting out a soft, short bark.

Ansell flinched. "No. Bad dog." Hearing the shuffle of slippers, all of the color left his face. The damned dog, his downfall.

Cadenza rounded the corner. Robed, hair down, groggy, a touch too cold for his liking. He became much more alert at the figure his dog was whining at.

The prince looked at him like a deer caught in a trap.

Silently scooping up Froufrou, his mouth opened and closed like a bewildered fish. Turning, noticing the door, he traced the path back to his prince.

Ansell held his breath, cow-eyed with dread. Watching the Maestro's brows furrow for a brief moment.

Meeting the boy's worried gaze, he mimed zipping his mouth shut. Patting the prince's shoulder before wandering back to his quarters and a sleeping wife.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Ansell resumed his arduous journey to the door. Slowly wrapping his fingers around the elegant handle, he winced as it clicked softly to his coaxing. Cracking the door open, he allowed himself to relax.

"Master Ansell!"

Nearly collapsing in a fit of despair, he looked over his shoulder.

Cogsworth, still in his nightcap, candle aloft, cup of tea in the other hand. "Master ANSELL." He chided gruffly. "What on Earth are you doing?! With those commoner's clothes? You look like some awful woodsman."

Ansell pressed his head against the doorframe in defeat. Cogsworth's stream of reproachful questions bleeding together in the twilight.

* * *

"Pere Robert?"

He smiled when he saw his favorite avid reader come in through the door, toting a stack of books secured by some twine. "Belle! What a pleasant surprise."

"I hope you're well." she smiled.

"I am, I am. I must say, you and his majesty put on a lovely party. I think I'm still full." The smudge of graphite under her cheek amused her friend. The last time he has seen her she had looked like one of the princesses from a far-fetched story. But there she was, unchanged by her royal romance. Still ever the town's curious girl. "Though I'm a little surprised you're here when you have that gorgeous library you gave me a tour of."

Belle smiled at the one person in Villeneuve who also enjoyed her favorite room in the castle. "Actually, I have something for you." She patted the stack of books. "I was doing some nosing about and I found we have some doubles of quite a few books. I was hoping your library could use them?"

"Really? It would be my pleasure to give them a home." He took the books gratefully, reading the spines.

"There's some more, but I didn't have time to get them all." She explained. "The rest are yours though if you'd like."

"Thank you, Belle." He gazed sincerely at her. "This is very thoughtful."

"I wanted them to go to a place where they'll be loved." She smiled, watching him untie the twine and carefully find her books a spot on his shelf.

"Ah! Have you seen this?" He pulled a thick leather book out and handed it to her. Watching the brown eyes light up.

"No, not at all." Running her palm over the cover, feeling the embossed lettering.

"It just came in from Paris, fresh off the presses." he said excitedly.

"Oh, it's _brand new."_ She marveled, inspecting every inch of the book.

"Would you like to read it?"

Looking up at him, puzzled, her fingers still admiring the craftsmanship. "But you haven't even opened it yet, much less read it. The spine is uncracked."

He shrugged. "It'll be awhile before I find any time to dig in. Besides, how long will it take for you to devour it?"

She smiled wryly. "I don't know what you're talking about." Looking at the title, she tucked the book against her chest. The smile turning into an eager grin. "Thank you."

"It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too. And I'll take good care of it."

* * *

*Day Two*

* * *

Ansell slunk through the castle once more. Sunrise, Villeneuve, Belle. So easy, nearly at the door.

There was a loud, demanding meow.

Turning, he saw the large, fluffy cat that was formerly a very vocal throw pillow. Yaowling, preparing to dive under the master's legs and twine around them. If he tripped him this master would have to pick him up.

"Capitaine." He grumbled. Another yaowl made him jump as he scrambled silently to get the furball. Bare stockings slipping and sliding across the polished marble. Very nearly taking a fall, but managing to recover at the last minute.

Capitaine purred as soon as he was picked up. Eyes shut in contentment as he had resumed being the center of someone's universe. Shoving his large orange head against Ansell's palm, stretching his claws out happily, rumbling.

"Alright," He breathed a sigh of relief that the animal had shut up. "just keep-"

"MASTER ANSELL"

Ansell growled. Slowly, petulantly turning to Cogsworth. Capitaine blissfully oblivious.

* * *

Belle sat on the small wooden bench next to their horse paddock. She took up the entire space, sitting lengthwise, legs out and crossed over. A warm summer's afternoon, her father inside tinkering, chores done, a half-read book in one hand and fresh apple in another. Nearly the perfect setting, though she was missing one thing.

Two passersby looked at her, whispering to themselves, clearly talking about the artist's daughter.

She watched them suspiciously, but ultimately ignored the pair.

The crisp crunch of the first bite of the apple brought Philippe's head over the half door. Nostrils flaring, ears perked, shifting his weight with large expectant eyes.

His friend Roman followed suit. Bigger than the other horse, he stretched his mighty head and began snuffling towards the girl as Philippe encouraged with a knicker.

Belle, still chewing, raised a brow as she turned her page, careful to not smudge it with juice.

As she returned back to her book, a large velvety nose bumped the side of her head. A big wuff of air blowing her hair forward.

Turning around, she saw the two horses, begging. Roman nudging her again at the shoulder, Philippe stamping and stretching as far as he could. Balancing her snack on her leg, she dug into a pocket to produce two apple halves.

Their ears swiveled to attention. Philippe let out a small, desperate whinny.

Extending a half up, she fed the one horse and repeated the action with the other. With her friends placated, she settled back into her book and apple.

* * *

*Day Three*

* * *

"MASTER ANSELL."

"For _God's sake_ , Cogsworth." Ansell lamented, staring at the old man blocking the door. The cool waning moonlight making his frustration glow silver. "Just let me go."

Cogsworth came over, leaning on his cane as his joints were stiff so early in the morning. "Follow me, _now._ "

Ansell followed the majordomo into a small room. Watching the old man use his candle to light a candelabra.

"Shut that door." He ordered, blustering in an angry whisper as soon as it clicked shut. "What on earth are you doing, you foolish boy?!"

"Cogsworth, I'm a prisoner in my own home!" He whispered back. "All I want to do is go out for a few hours-"

"And lead his minders to Belle!"

The prince was taken aback. Silent, watching the man who was closest to a father to him.

Tears filled his old eyes. "Do you want him to know how much you love her? How much we _all_ love her? Where she lives?" Batting back the urge to cry, a hand came up to shield his eyes. "Your impulsive nature could be the downfall of everything."

The guilt crept in. His arms suddenly felt heavy.

"I don't have the time to even address the _other_ issues at hand. But quit trying to go see her." He huffed, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. "Appease your father, play his games." Cogsworth suddenly felt weary. Shaking his head, he shuffled past the prince. "I'm getting too old for all of this."

* * *

"Agatha?"

The spinster turned, finding the kind, gentle face of Villeneuve's most misunderstood girl. "Belle."

"I never got to thank you for helping Papa." She explained sincerely. Ignoring the looks she was receiving for interacting with an old woman who begged in the street.

"I was only trying to do the right thing." Tugging on her threadbare shawl, Belle reached out and touched her shoulder sincerely. A rarity, few people bothered to talk to her much less touch her.

"But you did the right thing." She sighed. "That doesn't always happen here, unfortunately."

Agatha pursed her lips, nodding in agreement. The village clattered on around them. Eyes from windows and doors peeking at them every so often.

"We didn't see you at the celebration," Belle stated, rocking on her heels.

"I had nothing to wear."

"The dress code was fairly loose. More of a suggestion." The girl reassured. "But you were missed, I know Papa wanted to have a word with you." Turning, she fiddled with a basket she was carrying. "I wanted to share with you some of the leftover food. Mrs. Potts gave us so much, there's no way we can eat it all."

A wrapped hunk of cheese, some salted meat wrapped in paper. Bread and butter and a heaping bundle of vegetables all tucked nearly in a small towel. Agatha smiled as the basket was held out to her.

* * *

Cogsworth could talk. And talk. And talk. Honestly, he was beginning to think the majordomo had been more tolerable when he chimed ever hour.

Ansell was trying with all his might to listen and learn, but they were coming upon hour four. What little attention the prince had disappeared like a snowflake falling into a torch.

"Master are you even listening?!"

The prince looked up from his desk. Ink quill in hand, looking bored out of his mind.

"What on Earth are you-" Cogsworth snatched the paper he had been scribbling on to find a crudely drawn, ink spattered beast fighting a dragon that sported a monocle and mustache amongst sparse, poorly written notes. " _Master Ansell!"_

Ansell sighed, slouching in his chair. "It's been four hou-"

The Duke entered the room, eyeing his stubborn heir. "ANSELME."

The prince jumped slightly, unaware of his father's presence.

"Cogsworth," He said. Cane clacking on the floor, hands glittering with jewelry like sun on dew. "Perhaps I should take over my son's education for the time being."

Cogsworth blustered a "yes your grace" before giving the poor lad a look of pity. Bustling out of the room like a goose being chased out by a hound.

Oh, his claws. And teeth. And fur and size. Why couldn't they return just long enough to drive this monster out and bring back Belle?

Using the cane glimmering with rubies, he smacked his son across the back. The insolent boy yelped, and the Duke ignored it. "Sit up straight, or I'll use other measures."

Rolling his shoulders, straightening his spine, he folded his hands neatly on the tabletop and paid careful attention to his father circling the room.

He'd beat it out of him if he had to. "Where did you and Cogsworth leave off?"

Ansell looked out the door, catching his brother watching in amusement.

Leon raised his glass in a silent toast.


	5. Chapter 5

_Part 2 of 3_

* * *

*Day Four*

* * *

"Well I hear the prince is going to Versailles."

Belle stopped in her tracks, Pere Robert's book carefully tucked under an arm.

"Same. The Duke will be presenting him to the court." Another woman announced as they scrubbed their laundry.

"It was bound to 'appen." Someone piped. "That strapping young man can't stay locked up in that castle forever."

Belle slowed her pace, listening carefully.

"The soldiers have been drinking at the tavern, spilling it all." One explained. "I talked to one last night, Jean. He says the Duke is taking him for a month or more. Wants to groom him again so he can take over."

"Maybe he'll turn out better than the Duke." A mother shook her head. "His taxes! They're outrageous."

"You think he's any better?" One huffed. "Look at that fancy party he threw, wined and dined everyone. Where do you think that money comes from?"

"Do you know what's happening with that girl of his?"

"You mean Belle, the artist's daughter."

"I hear she's back in town."

"Maybe he got bored-"

Hugging the book, Belle lowered her head and quickly walked off.

* * *

"And what _do you_ possibly do for fun here?" Leon tapped a fingernail on his wine glass. Obscenely bored, draped over a chaise, he gazed out a window into a gorgeous late summer day. "The rumors were you were hip deep in beautiful women and golden caskets of spirits."

Ansell sighed, seated powerfully in an armchair, staring listlessly into his cup. Dear God, he just wanted peace and quiet. "I prefer horseback riding, hiking, swimming, reading-"

"You're an outdoorsman now?" He scoffed, draining his glass. "You never so much as wanted to see a tree unless it was through a window."

"I've found fresh air and good company to be beneficial." Hearing a stampede of small feet, his heart lifted. "Speaking of company," Waiting, the small shoes skidded to stop at the door. There was a pause before it creaked open slowly.

Leon was unamused at the little boy that shuffled in.

"And what do we owe the honor, Chip?" Ansell smiled for the first time in what felt like ages.

Chip held his hands so stiffly at his sides, feet together like a wee soldier, trying extremely hard to be professional. Fidgeting. "Mum wanted me to announce that dinner is ready."

"What, we can't afford a full-sized servant?" Leon muttered under his breath.

The prince's fingers tightened around the velvet arm. Turning his attention to the shaggy haired boy, he beckoned him over. "You did a fine job, little man." Grabbing the child playfully, he growled to get a giggle and hauled him up to his knee. "How are you?"

"I'm well! Are you feeling better, Master Ansell?" Such big, hopeful eyes.

"I was talking about going out exploring with friends and I instantly thought of you." He poked the boy's stomach, getting a laugh for his efforts.

Chip was suddenly enraptured. "Do you remember that time we went horseback riding and I rode with Belle?" He leaned forward earnestly.

"I do. We had a picnic." Ansell allowed himself to get lost in the pleasant past. "It was a little warm, and Chef packed us a lunch big enough for an army."

"We wrestled." The boy beamed.

"Yes, and you beat me. Strong Englishman that you are." He squeezed the child's biceps. "And then there were pirates-"

"And Belle was a pirate."

"Meanest pirate in all the seven seas."

"And we had a sword fight!"

"To the death!"

"She killed you!"

"Well, now she _cheated_."

"And then you threw her in the lake." Chip laughed. "And she _was not_ happy."

"No she certainly wasn't." he chuckled, remembering riding back at sunset. Belle sopping wet and promising vengeance. Chip tucked against him, arm around the boy to hold him in place as he dozed in the saddle.

"We should do that again." Chip told him, eager for another sunny day.

"We should." Patting the boy's back, he helped him off his knee and rose stiffly. "Thank you for the happy memory. And for telling us dinner is ready." Ruffling his hair, he watched Chip charge off. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned to the viscount. "Brother, shall we?"

Leon eyed his brother suspiciously, slowly passing him out the door. "You like children now too?"

Ansell brushed past wordlessly.

"And you like riding." He mused, mind turning. "You know what we should do, brother? We should put together a hunt."

Ansell stopped dead in his tracks, eyes dilating, looking over his shoulder. "No."

"Come on!" He prodded, smiling like a fiend. "You still have that fine horse of yours? I have mine and I brought hounds." Leon puffed his chest out. "They're magnificent dogs, positively massive. Use them for bear hunting."

Steadying his breathing, he fought old memories of being mistaken for a bear. The crack of a gun, the baying of a pack of relentless dogs. Their paws churning the earth behind him. It still woke him up some nights. He never told her what the nightmares were about, or why hounds made him so nervous, but it was a fear that was tucked deep inside his mind.

"We'll get father and find ourselves a bear. Enjoy chasing the brute-"

"I'M THE PRINCE AND I SAID NO." He whirled around. Eyes piercing, commanding.

Leon narrowed his gaze before giving a spiteful little bow. "As you wish, Your Grace." Turning, he stalked off to the dining room.

Dragging his hand across his mouth, he did his best to let the animosity go.

But it was getting harder.

* * *

*Day Five*

* * *

"So she _is_ back in town."

"Well, I'll be damned."

"A month at court in Versailles. Does she really think they'd let her in?"

Belle took a deep breath as she weaved through the market. Desperately not wanting to hear the gossip, nor be the topic of it so much of it. However, it had begun the moment the Duke's soldiers had started drinking and running their mouths off and there was very little she could do.

Le Fou saw her approaching and smiled. "Bonjour, Belle."

"Bonjour, Le Fou." She scratched his pony's nose. "I was told you brought back some supplies for Papa?"

"That I did." The saddle was laden with his deliveries as he unclipped one particular bag. "A bunch of different sized gears and some oil paints."

Taking the bag, she carefully inspected the order. Making sure the paints were the right colors, the gears the metal her father preferred to work with. "Thank you so much, it keeps him from having to take a few trips to get what he needs." Taking out a bag of coins, she passed it over.

"Not a problem." He began to remove the other bags as people began to cluster for their goods. Pausing, he caught the brightly dressed royal soldiers walking into the tavern. Looking at Belle, speaking in low voices, some laughing to themselves. The more he looked around, the more he saw gossiping throughout the town. Stolen glances directed towards an increasingly uncomfortable young woman.

"I hear his father already has a noble woman picked out."

"Well, I hear his brother is reteaching him how to be royal."

"That's funny because I heard that Belle-"

"Belle?"

Belle turned to Le Fou's voice, unable to hide the discontent that was growing in her eyes.

"You know, I don't have to go back out for a few more days." He said carefully, handing a basket of seeds to a farmer. "Would you like to have lunch or tea sometime? We could talk… or not." A woman waiting for her goods was gossiping and he glared at her until she shut up.

Belle twisted the strap of the bag in her hands, wanting to go and hide. It was worse than when they called her funny. She would have taken being called funny over what was being spread around. "Oh Le Fou, I don't think now's the best time."

"Okay," he nodded understandingly. "If you change your mind I could always use the company. Ever since Gaston died." Sighing heavily, he suddenly appeared lonelier than she had realized. "I've been finding out who's a friend and who's not."

Looking down at the dusty cobblestones thoughtfully, Belle began to nod her head. "It just a minority, you know."

"A very vocal minority." He reminded her.

"Perhaps tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow then." He agreed.

"Thanks again." She took off, walking briskly, trying to get home as quickly as possible. While there were still friends around Villeneuve, the pit of her stomach churned with homesickness. Hurrying up the steps, she found her father sanding small pieces of metal for his next project. "Your paints and gears arrived." Taking the items to him, she set them nearby, smiling as he looked everything over carefully.

"Well, it's certainly nice not having to leave town for them." He smiled up at her, though it quickly disappeared when he saw her expression. "Belle, what's wrong?"

"I think I need to go, Papa." Frustrated, she went to grab her jacket off of the hook.

"Wait, the castle?" He rose up as she pulled it over her shoulders and grabbed her satchel.

"I'll be back in the morning." She huffed. "Love you."

"But isn't that-" The door shut. Taking a deep breath, hands hanging limply at his sides, Maurice was left alone. "dangerous, Belle?" Looking towards the door, he shook his head. "She fought a mob, Maurice. She fought a mob and a crazed man who shot a beast who was secretly a prince." He breathed to himself, heading back to his work. "She'll be fiiine."

* * *

"Are you reading children's books now, old boy?"

Ansell looked up in defeat from his spot against the window frame. He had hoped no one would consider the fencing hall and sporting room. Leon had appeared to be mostly focused on the liquor cabinet and his Spanish girl.

She hung off of his older brother as he pointed a finger to the prince. "That, my dear, is a book by Perrault. He wrote fairy tales. For children."

The book shut with an audible snap. "I was going to read to the castle's children later." They had been desperately missing their usual storytime with Belle. She was irreplaceable between reading to them and assisting them with their own reading; a champion of learning and being curious. However, he had been hoping to attempt to fill in the gap in some small way.

"What a changed man you are, Anselme." Discarding of his young woman from Spain he circled the sabers and swords. "Tender hearted some may say."

"And why are you here, brother?"

"Crippling boredom has sadly claimed me once more." Running his fingers gently across the pommel of a sword as one would caress the body of a woman. He looked up at the space. A long room of gilded wood and mounted beasts. Mostly windows, bright light shining through, making the space and all its weapons gleam. The animals above appeared appropriately frightened. "Apparently you just can't drink all day."

Ansell, immensely unamused, rose up.

"Don't you have lessons with father?" Pulling a sword out of its scabbard, the draw of the metal down the case sang crisply in the hall. He noticed how his brother shivered ever so slightly.

"I was released. Seems I've suffered enough for one day." He said, padding off to find a new hiding place. Since his family's arrival, he had read so little that it had been beginning to feel like a deficiency. With Belle, there was always time to read, whether it was together or on their own to indulge their separate tastes. Books used to be casually displaced everywhere, but due to the duke being in the castle the maids had quietly tucked every book back into its place. Gone were the uneven stacks, the copies of a play unceremoniously resting on a table in some random room of the castle. He hated it.

"So you're free for a bit of fun then?"

Ansell turned back to look at the viscount, who tossed him a sword. Catching it, pulse quickening as Leon drew another blade he drew a deep breath as the memories connected with the weapon flooded through. "This isn't a foil, Leon."

"You were always better than me, Your Majesty." He reminded, pulling his blade up as he began to walk carefully towards the prince. "Come on, then."

His arm slackened. Not wanting to participate.

"Anselme, you're so dour. Regale us with your skill." playfully he rolled his wrist, circling the blade at his brother. "Don't you remember this being one of our favorite pastimes? The ladies always found your talents so rakish, used to compare you to a Musketeer."

"I remember it always being a competition. _Father's_ competition."

"If you'll duel that boy but not me I'll be positively bereft." Leon feigned a pout.

Ansell sighed. "Leon, I said no."

Lumiere was walking down the hall when he caught a glimpse. Stopping, he found a place to watch and not be noticed. The older son approached the prince like a hungry wolf. And then there was poor heartsick Ansell, taking a step back, having no taste for a duel. Lumiere held his breath as Leon clearly prepared to spring at him.

Leon attacked, and with lightening speed, Ansell's eyes snapped at attention. A circle parry to dodge the attack, a moment to catch his stance. A wobble as he was so terribly out of practice. There had been no need for swords when he had come built with his own weaponry.

"You're a touch rusty, Your Grace." He goaded. "Come on, don't you remember this? Even if father urged us a bit it was still playing with one another."

Their blades clanged, feet stepping. A dance of metal. "I remember you never playing by the rules, Leon." He thrust, barely catching the counter with a clatter.

"You really must be more flexible. You're so stiff." A feint, an attack, circling Ansell and watching him struggle. "You need to limber up, old boy. That little farm girl of yours clearly hasn't helped with that."

Ansell's eyes flashed. He slid his blade up Leon's, disengaging him.

"A little bit of a sore spot, eh?" A wicked smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"No, master, no." Lumiere breathed. "Don't fall for it."

Ansell became reactionary, aggressive. Lunging and attacking as Leon stepped gracefully backward.

"Temper, temper." The viscount tisked. "I was always surprised Francis would never play with us."

"Francis prefers to lounge more than anything else." The prince remembered. He refined his movements, not wanting to fall for his brother's provoking.

"Father always did favor you when it came to lessons." A clang, a clatter. His brother was getting too confident, the fool.

"I would rather not have his favor." Their blades sung. "But that's not up to me." Tucking his other arm behind his back, the cobwebs were being swept away.

"I never got that." Leon bristled. "He could give you the world."

"The world he wishes to give." Ansell corrected.

"A world of luxury, power. Just because you were born to the right woman." A growl, a crack in Leon's facade.

"That wasn't my choosing, Leon." He parried. "Nor was it mine to have everything a competition for his affections."

"Oh Ansell," he steadied his breathing, telling himself to not think about what upset him. The injustice of it all. This prodigal son returned no longer fit to inherit. "You've been gone for years because you were a brilliantly narcissistic cad. It's no longer a competition."

"And I've changed." He grunted, attacking.

"But how much?!" A parry, a reposte. Still smarting from the words he allowed his blade to slice through Ansell's waistcoat, making the heir stumble back.

Ansell touched his side, a thin line of blood painting his palm. "Jealousy is ugly on you, Leon. It always has been."

"Jealousy can easily be hidden in court." Tilting his chin up, he smiled smugly. "Now rumors of a prince living out his years as a snarling, drooling animal that killed a decorated soldier? Those never go away."

Baring his teeth, he attacked viciously.

"And it's already started, Your Grace." He hissed, pleased with the reaction. "Gaston, was it? Medaled, a great war hero. Torn asunder by the big creature at the top of the crumbling castle. That chatter will be there the moment you step off the carriage."

Lumiere winced. Plumette sidled up to him and covered her mouth. They turned just to see Belle wander into the doorway.

She froze, eyes widening as she saw Leon draw blood from Ansell's shoulder, making him stumble back and fall. "ANSELL!"

All the brothers heard were feet racing in and the sound of a sword being drawn from the rack. Leon paused, mid strike, looking up just as steel caught his blade. The farm girl in front of his brother. A ferocious thing in a blue dress, blocking him from any further attack.

"Belle, what are you doing?!" Ansell scrambled to his feet.

The viscount gave a surprised smile. "Come to save the day? There's no cause for alarm here, we're just playing, Mademoiselle."

"Then why is he bleeding?!" She snapped, struggling against the strength of his arm.

He rolled his eyes, quickly stepping out of the way. With a few flicks of his wrist, her sword clattered to the ground as she flew forward, skidding across the floor. "This is a man's game, girl. Don't-"

Ansell rushed Leon, sending the viscount to the ground. Struggling to keep in check, keep the rage at bay.

Leon laughed, eyes burning dark. "Oh, Ansell." Thrusting a leg out, he swept it and hooked his brother's boot. The prince went backward.

Ansell threw his sword to the side and rolled out of the way. Landing in a crouch, he suddenly pounced like a cat as Leon was getting back on his feet. A roar, ringing through the entire castle, making everyone jump. Plowing into him, driving him into the floor. The two tumbling, struggling, slamming into one another to gain the upper hand on the mirror shine of the hardwood. Getting on top, he pinned Leon down and clenched a fist. Drawing it back, baring his teeth as he sat astride his weaker sibling. Wild-eyed, an utter terror to behold.

She forgot to breathe, watching him, the enraged blue eyes full of fire and hate. As if Leon was one of the wolves so long ago.

A rapier thrust in front of Ansell, keeping him from striking.

"Get. Off. Your. Brother." The Duke enunciated as both of his sons looked up. Using the tip of the rapier, he jabbed Ansell in the shoulder, forcing him off of Leon.

Still frightening the servants that had clustered by the door, he raked a hand through his hair and caught his breath. A growl formed in the back of Ansell's throat, ready and wanting to leap back at Leon and show him exactly the kind of snarling, drooling animal he was.

"Just a bit of fun, father." The viscount licked some blood off of his lip. Smiling, pleased with himself. A touch scared of Ansell, though. His brother was now a brute, he had to remember that. "Just clearing the air, being boys like old times."

The Duke slid his rapier back into the shaft of his cane. The round jeweled pommel clicking back into place, the rubies bright like fresh blood from a deep wound. "Leon, you know better." He snapped, turning his attention back to his heir. "And you." looking down his nose at the young man sitting floor like an insolent, panting child. "Control yourself, boy. You're no longer lumbering around this palace on all fours. Act like a goddamned man." He turned to the peasant girl who was catching her breath. She seemed stunned. "And what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I was just visiting my friends on staff." Purposefully, Belle placed herself between the Duke and Ansell before she bowed "I heard fighting and I was worried when I saw the viscount draw blood."

He looked over to his eldest.

"It's not the first time we've sliced one another in a duel." Leon reminded him. "And he was the one who used to get me."

Nodding his head, he turned to the girl. Belle, was it? Something, didn't matter. She looked like she should be scrubbing floors in that dress and apron. "He's fine, he just needs to be quicker. Fence with grace and dignity, not rolling around on the floor like a sailor in a tavern."

She stood there, plainly disagreeing yet unable to speak her mind. Loathing every second of it.

"I have reports to read." The Duke announced, much more important things on his mind than dealing with his nuisance sons and some girl from the village in a fraying frock.

Leon got up. Dusting himself off, putting his sword back, offering his Spanish girl an elbow. The clicking of his shoes disappearing.

Ansell sat in the middle of the sunny room in silence. Cradling his head in his hands.

Belle came and crouched next to him, silently placing a hand on his shoulder as a small group of servants led by Lumiere and Plumette came forward.

He looked up, showing her his red-eyed, miserable face.

"Come on, let's go the library." She murmured, helping him up. Turning to the staff she heard him hiss in pain. "Could I please have some wound dressings, water, soap, needle and thread, and Mrs. Potts has-" A footman nodded and quickly took off. She turned to Ansell, who was holding his side. "Do you need help?"

Silently, he shook his head. Limping off, the group of staff parting like the red sea.

Belle followed, quietly, watching the sullen prince. Taken aback at what she had witnessed as she hadn't seen his pure, unbridled rage since the beginning of her stay over a year ago. Yet there it was, deep down inside. Perhaps it would never leave him, it would be something he would always have to battle.

"I didn't want to fight." He grumbled, finally. "I tried, I tried so hard, Belle."

"He obviously pushed you." She reassured, but there was a hesitation. She felt it, as did he. It had been so long since there had been one. "You didn't have a choice."

"It doesn't feel that way." Ansell was silent all the way through the rest of the castle. They trekked their way through, winding up the stairs and opening the door.

"Go sit." She ordered, shutting the door and taking off her jacket. "Shirt off, please."

"Why the library?" Doing as he was told, he sat on the chaise, tossing the bloodied garment aside.

"Because your family will suspect we retreated to the bedroom, and I really don't want them checking in on us." Going to the hearth, she added some wood to build the fire up. "I've had enough of them."

"You saw them all of five minutes." He winced.

"And that was _clearly_ enough." There was a knock on the door and the footman who had previously been a serving tray had returned with a large tray of medical supplies. "Thank you, Georges."

"Of course, M'lady." Pulling a side table up to the prince, he set it down and bowed. "Is there anything else you need?"

"No, thank you." Georges slipped out. Before she sat, Belle bent over, cupping the sides of his face and pressing onto his lips a deep, loving kiss. Parting for air, her thumbs stroked his cheeks, forehead resting against his. "I love you so much." She reassured.

His head turned, his face to show her he felt he didn't deserve it. Hair stubbornly falling into his face.

"Here." Digging around in her pocket she pulled out a spare ribbon, walking around and taking his hair, leaving it half down, braiding the sides back. "We can fix this."

"Braiding?" He asked.

"It's messy, but it won't get in your face." She explained, quickly wrapping the bunch of hair and fixing a secure bow. Going back around, she watched him reach around and fiddle with it. Ignoring his fussing she poured some hot water from the kettle into the basin, carefully washing her hands with the soap, dipping a rag in.

He started wincing.

"I haven't even touched it yet. Don't be such a baby." Belle told him, gently working on his side first.

"I'm not a child." He reminded gruffly.

"You certainly could fool me whenever you need mending." She was careful with him. He was such an overdramatic soul when it came to medical attention. He could valiantly fight through pain in the heat of the moment, but when it came to sitting down and getting cleaned up Ansell was all wincing and whining. "It's not too deep, so no stitches. But we'll use the ointment."

"Aren't I supposed to be the one protecting?" He muttered, struggling to look her in the eye. All he could see was her with the sword, strong and stubborn. Her bravery melting into shock. She had seen him be so monstrous, so beastly. While he had been yearning to scare them away, he had never wanted for her to see him that way. Never again.

"I think we can take turns." She responded, looking up at him sincerely.

* * *

Plumette quietly unlocked and opened the door to the library.

The master and Belle were on the chaise. Belle lying atop the prince on her stomach, head resting on his chest, eyes half open as she stroked his face and hair. The poor tired fellow was fast asleep with an arm slung around her, a blanket up to their backs to ward off the chill.

Belle stiffened a bit to the maid entertaining while they were very much in the nude save for their blanket.

"Oh Mademoiselle, don't worry." She said, carefully shutting and locking the door. Clothing draped neatly over an arm. "We've all seen the master with far less on and in far more compromising positions."

Despite being aware of his past Belle didn't want to think too much about what that entailed. "What time is it?"

"Well past dinner, but Chef has food waiting when you're ready." She said, getting closer. "Madame ordered you a large lot of clothes you can try on at a later date. But it included a house robe I thought you may want, I also brought a nightgown."

"Oh thank you." Belle eyed the silk banyan robe, light blue with gold beading and stitching. Flowering vines and soaring birds wrapping around the cuffs and down the sides. "Thank you so much. Instead of the gown can I just have my shift?" She watched the maid go and pick up the discarded article of clothing. Their clothes had wound up in a frantic pile by a table that had been just the right height for a few things. Taking it, she carefully pulled the undergarment on and then took the robe.

"Chapeau asked if I could bring something comfortable for the master." She said, laying out his similar robe of hunter green adorned with pale green stags and thorned roses. A pair of loose linen breeches for sleeping were also set aside. Chapeau was well aware their prince wasn't one for much clothing when he took to bed.

"Please tell him thank you." She said as Ansell began to stir. "I know I don't make his job easy with my discomfort of having him dress Ansell while I'm in the room."

"He understands, Mademoiselle." She smiled. Gathering up the forgotten clothes, folding them neatly, musing over how well the prince was as soon as Belle was in the room. "It is an adjustment for you to have so many staff members with different functions now that we're not just feather dusters and furniture. Ladies maids and valets are a bit more invasive than the average maid and butler."

"And I would like to thank you as well. I know I'm not the best lady to wait on." She often felt bad for Plumette who had been promoted to her Lady's Maid. Being self-sufficient meant there was little to do other than taking dirtied laundry and draw baths. Occasionally Belle wanted her hair done, or to wear a nicer ensemble for a night with Ansell, but there was little actual waiting on a young woman constantly in motion.

"Belle, you are fine. We have a rhythm now. Though I hope you can find yourself more comfortable with me entering the chambers for morning and night service since Chapeau is respecting your wishes." Stacking everything carefully, she gathered the clothing up.

"Yes, of course."

"I'll have these washed and returned to the royal chambers. Would you like me to get you a dinner service?"

Tiredly, she squinted in thought, nearly yawning from the warmth of the fires and the dim glow of the candles. "Could you please bring dinner and tea service to his chambers?"

" _Our_ chambers."

Looking down she found the prince's groggy, dopily smiling face. Backs of his fingers coming up and caressing her cheek.

"They're ours, it's not the same when you're not in them." He corrected in a deep drowsy voice.

Plumette smiled at the pair. "What tea would you prefer?"

"Mint if you could." She turned to Ansell, who was lazily playing with a piece of her hair.

"Mint for me as well, please."

"As you wish. Is there anything else?"

"No, thank you that's all." She watched Plumette leave before turning to the tired prince. "You look better." Leaning forward, Belle kissed his chest, then his neck.

"Hrm." Taking a deep breath his hands found the clothing on her. "It's been hard to sleep without you, Darling. Plus, you know how to exhaust me in the best ways."

Belle smiled seductively, finding his mouth. Holding his face in her hands, kissing him tenderly, humming pleasantly. Oh, how she had missed the smell of him. Spice, cedar, musk. The scent on his clothes, their blankets, and pillows. It was a soothing reminder she was home. Pressing her nose to his neck to get a lungful, Belle kissed the spot.

"What's all this?" He whispered, toying with the fabric on her.

"Nothing you can't push out of the way." She reassured, feeling a hand go up and stroke her torso before finding her thighs.

"You're so thoughtful." A lopsided, sleepy smile.

"Plumette was nice enough to bring you clothes too." Stroking his shoulder, it was clear as day he did not want to dress. "Which you need to do if we're to go to _our_ chambers."

"Now why on earth would we do that?" He asked, guiding her to straddle him and sit atop his muscled torso. A slight wince from the bandage. "It's so warm and comfortable here. So many throws if we need them, and so many surfaces. Not to mention books. I hear _certain_ women can be seduced by poetry."

Belle chuckled, petting the arms at her waist. Strong hands stroking and temptingly massaging her hips. "Because I want to be seduced in our bed. There's a lot more space for us to do certain things in it." Listening to his low growling laugh of agreement, she watched him and noted how much more relaxed he was. The ache that sat behind his eyes had nearly gone. "And eventually I'd like to sleep in it."

He yawned, frowning when she got up and lashed her robe, bringing him over the clothing. "Well, if we _must_ for certain things." Ansell smiled mischievously as he took the breeches and slipped them on under the throw. "How did you even get up here?"

"I was snuck in through the servant's quarters, I wanted to visit my friends." She said, helping Ansell up and handing him his robe.

" _Friends,_ right." He said sarcastically.

"I do miss them." Belle pushed back against the needling. "Also, I hadn't heard from you in days and was feeling homesick. I was going to see everyone, however, I wasn't prepared to assist my damsel."

Ansell raised a confused brow.

"Were you not in distress?"

He snorted as she laughed softly and stole a kiss from his pouting mouth.

"You've saved me plenty of times," She lovingly reminded her prince "we really should trade off every once in awhile."

"I suppose. I do like it when you're gallant, it raises a tremendous amount of concern and fear in other men." Smiling in amusement at the fact, he pulled on his robe, allowing it to hang loosely off of his body. Wrapping her up he applied the most loving of kisses. "I've missed you so much you don't even know."

"I think I have a feeling." She murmured, leaning against his chest. Remembering how distraught he had been just a few hours ago. Wanting to protect him from the ills of his family. "I love you."

"I love you too, Darling." Pressing a kiss to her forehead he rested his own head against it. "Shall we sneak you into our rooms?"

Belle nodded her head, feeling tired, wanting the comforts of their quarters. "I'll leave in the early morning." She sighed sadly.

"We'll make the most of the night." Everything felt so much more manageable with her there. His father, his brother, the court. Ansell couldn't bare to tell her about the month away. It would ruin their fleeting moment of happiness.

* * *

"If I didn't know any better I'd think Anselme wasn't nursing his wounds." Leon said as he and his father strolled the garden, sharp eyes watching the west wing suddenly flicker with the light of freshly lit candles. "But had a certain farm girl on her knees up there."

"That will run its course one way or another." The Duke reassured.

"Never thought I'd see him sooo… monogamous." He scoffed. "And so melancholy now. So soft! There's no fight in him. It's like that curse changed him or something."

"Better he than us, son." His father said, admiring the topiaries. "Your constant needling is getting him out of his shell, though I take issue with your methods."

"Extreme times call for extreme measures. Though once he's at court I think it'll sort him out."

"I certainly hope so. I need an heir, not a sniveling man-child preoccupied with keeping sequestered away in the province, ruining our finances, and thinking he can get away with some peasant." Curling his lip, he eyed the west wing.

Leon took a deep breath, studying his feet as he kept his anger in check. "She's protective of him." He noted with a hint of disdain. "Odd girl, standing up to _me._ And the staff is so _fond_ of her. And so lax at that. Horribly casual with Anselme and her."

"She's a peasant girl, things can be done." He said, the stars clear and bright on their faces. The hedges rustling in the wind. "I didn't wish to stay this long, however, he's been so unraveled by that blasted witch. So weak and tender-hearted now." Shaking his head, the curls bounced on his shoulders. "We must pray Versailles will change him."

"Yes, Father," Leon said shiftily. "We must."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Part 3 of 3._

* * *

*Day Six*

* * *

Belle awoke when Plumette came in, quietly laying out her washed dress and brushed boots.

Ansell was hopelessly tangled in her. Holding her, limbs hooking her own, his warm breath on her neck. Carefully she turned to lay on her back and he reacted by curling himself, nuzzling his head up on her shoulder. Blissfully asleep, free of whatever stresses had pursued him during their time apart.

She didn't want to leave him.

Sitting up, pressing her back to the plush headboard, he groaned and she guided his head to her lap, carefully combing the hair out of his face.

He looked up, sadly.

"I know." She sighed, gathering his head up and pressing it to her chest, kissing his crown as he wrapped her in a forlorn, lonely hug.

* * *

"Thank you, Le Fou." Belle said as he handed her a cup, setting a small platter of food on the rough-hewn table.

"I don't find myself at the tavern anymore, but this place has a good cheese platter." He explained, taking a seat.

"And how are you?" She took a sip from the mug, trying not to make a face but ale was not her favorite. Perhaps the next time they spoke she would suggest elsewhere.

"I'm alright, business is… okay." He stared into his mug, shrugging. "I used to transport more game and furs but since Gaston isn't running around shooting everything that doesn't stand on two legs it's been a little slower."

"You know, I heard Chef up at the castle complaining about finding someone new to deliver the morning produce and goods." She suggested. "The house will supply the cart, and I know for a fact everyone just got a very comfortable raise."

"Really? That would be lovely." He said, talking quickly, eagerly. "I could really save up with that kind of job. But- your father and his paints and everyone else-"

"We can manage, Le Fou. Don't stop yourself for anyone else." Belle encouraged. "Just ride up to the castle and talk to Mrs. Potts. She adores you."

"Thank you for letting me know." He grinned appreciatively.

"My pleasure, what are you saving for?" She took another sip, hoping she would get used to it. "Unless of course, that's a topic you-"

"Oh no." Le Fou beamed. "See, I'd like to buy an inn."

"Really?" Her eyebrows shot up as she leaned in.

"I really like people and hospitality, and I'd like to think I'm friendly enough to welcome people." Le Fou was all aglow with his dream. "Maybe not an inn here, it's not like this is a vacation spot, but the next town over always has fairs and events and it's on the way to Paris."

"That's a lovely idea." Belle smiled.

He dipped his head sheepishly. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do. I think you'd be quite the innkeeper." Softening, she could tell he didn't hear praise over his dream very often. "And you shouldn't listen to anyone putting you down."

The man's shoulders heaved. He stared into his ale, bits of foam floating across the surface like lazy clouds on a warm day. "It's not everyone, you know? A lot of people still are very friendly and we do business and they have nice things to say about you-" He gestured to her. "It's just that group... all those people at-"

"The tavern?"

"There's a _mural_ in there of him." Pointing a thumb towards the tavern where people were filtering in and out. "Not exactly the warmest place for the folks who ended up having a problem with Gaston."

"Oh yes," Belle sighed, heavily. Her face betraying her and showing how rankled she was of the entire situation. "I hear lots of colorful stories about me that come out of there."

A short silence grew as they both looked out the grimy window to see people watching her. Watching them. The onlookers ducking and going about their business once realizing they had been spotted.

"You know," Belle thoughtfully studied the grain of the table. Swirls and knots that had seen many drinks, meals, and hands. The clatter of plates and grumbles of conversation filling the gaps in the air. "I didn't really hear any of it for the first couple of days I came back, but now it's like I can't get away from it." She shook her head. "Most of it isn't true- but…" fidgeting with her mug, she found the courage to say it out loud. "I think some of it is."

"Like what?"

"Versailles." Belle was pensive at the prospect. "It sounds about right for his father, the duke."

Le Fou was reluctant to be the bearer of bad news. He hesitated, wetting his lips before leaning in. "Belle, I've been riding around the province for the past few days." He offered. "And the only thing I've heard from the other towns that matches up? They're taking him there for a _month_. Prepping him right now. Getting him all-" He gestured rather wildly "princely."

She sunk lower into her chair, muttering more to herself than the man across the table. "Well, that'll take awhile at least."

Le Fou tilted his head to the side.

"His majesty is a bit unrefined in some royal aspects… and... kind of goofy? Just between you and me." A thoughtful smile broke across her face towards her big, sweet Ansell. He could put on a good show play the part of the handsome prince well. At the celebration, he had reveled in it, though he had been clear it was because she was on his arm the entire time. But at the end of the day, he was also the excited young man who came to the house with a basket of coffee, attempted to do chores with her, and playfully argued about Coriolanus. "Not terribly princely sometimes."

"Maybe that's what makes him a good prince." Le Fou supplied. "If it's any consolation, all of the rumors about you turning into a crow at night and eating children haven't left town."

Belle laughed weakly, finding some solace in his humor. "If you believe all of the stories together I'm not only a witch but I'm also expecting _five_ illegitimate children, all from different men." He laughed with her. "One of them apparently is going to come out a little beast."

"People are _absolutely terrible_ here." His giggle trailed off into seriousness. "They don't deserve you."

"They don't deserve you either. Except for Stanley, how is he?"

"He's well." Suddenly bashful, blushing bright red across the table. The man shaking his shoulders happily. "He also wants to run an inn, but we're not trying to get too ahead of ourselves."

"I'm so happy for you." Reaching over she took and squeezed his hand.

"Thank you, Belle." He looked up at her, cheeks still red. "Don't let them get to you. They all worship the memory of a really terrible guy. A guy who gave out awful nicknames, by the way." He scowled. "My name isn't Le Fou. It's Gustave!" He threw his hands up in the air. "But it sounded too similar to Gaston and then I accidentally got too drunk one night. One thing led to another, a bet happened, I ended up in a pig pen _one time_ and all of a sudden I was Le Fou." Grumbling, he rolled his eyes. "Stanley's real name is Stephane. Stanley's not even a _French_ name."

"Well _Gustave_ ," Belle said pointedly. "I wish you and Stephane all the best."

Gustave smiled warmly.

* * *

Ansell was trying to hide.

Between his father's determination in prepping him for a success debut in court, his brother's drunken serpent-esque charm, and all of the joy being sucked out of the castle, he desperately needed a place to relax.

Stopping at the large, familiar double doors, he produced a key from his pocket.

"And what's in there ?"

Turning, he saw Leon sauntering over. Ever slippery and honed, like a dagger dripping with poison. Turning back around to ignore him, he unlocked the doors.

"Not going to share?" The viscount needled. "Not that you were ever taught to."

"This room is a private space." He explained firmly. "As is the entire west wing of the castle, not that you follow the rules."

"You keep this up and they'll think you a bore at court."

His head snapped up, eyes narrowing as he bristled. There was little patience left. "See, that's the difference between you and me, Leon. I don't mind being unpopular, I was left to my own devices, in solitude, for years. Meanwhile, you _slaver_ for every scrap you can get."

Leon's thin mustache twitched as rage bubbled up from his chest.

Before he could speak, his enormous red hounds came tearing through the halls. Slobber flying from their wide, open, snarling jaws. Snapping, skidding, running full speed.

Froufrou and Capitaine were both fleeing the horrid canines. The cat's hair on end, the dog yelping.

Ansell let go of the door and raced over.

Capitaine slipped, and one of the dogs leaped on top of him. Yet the cat screamed a war cry, grabbing the monstrous hound with his claws and climbing up the massive body. Tearing and biting before jumping off.

The prince scooped up Froufrou and soon found Capitaine up on his shoulder. Lunging down at the dogs he bared his teeth and let out a loud, savage roar. A roar that was far from human.

Leon stopped snooping around the unlocked door.

The dogs slid to a stop.

He locked his eyes on them. A deep, threatening rumble in his chest.

Ears pinning back, growls more fearful, the large hounds began to back up.

Standing up, dog tucked under an arm, cat's bottle brush tail curled about his neck like a frightened scarf, Ansell briskly headed back to the door. Stopping, gaze narrowing on his brother, he growled out. "Tie your dogs outside or I'll be willing to see how much of my former self is left."

Pushing himself through the door, he slammed it shut, rattling the hinges. Locking the door, setting Froufrou down, he slid to the floor and caught his breath.

Looking up at the library, precious memories encapsulated in one place.

* * *

*Day Seven*

* * *

With the seasons readying for a change a warm, rolling thunderstorm cascaded through the valley. Fat, dark blue clouds swallowing up the mountains, soaking the town. Villeneuve's energy slowed, most keeping inside and dry as the weather passed through.

Maurice shook the rain from his cloak, setting his hat on its hook as he turned around. The fire was roaring, his little house warm and pleasant, the familiar sounds of tinkering filling the air.

He wandered over to find Belle at a smaller table, carefully taking apart their clock.

She looked up, rather frustrated. Trying to hide it with a tired smile.

"You might give Cogsworth quite a fright if he saw you gutting that poor thing." Stooping, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Well aware she hadn't been sleeping well.

"Something's sticking in the gearwork." She explained, setting her tools down and wiping the grease from her hands with a rag. "Did you get your stockings?"

"I did. The poor old ones they're replacing have so many holes you can see all my toes." Maurice watched her sigh absently. His heart twinged at the lovesick brown eyes he adored so much. "You know, people would pay you to repair little things. Actual money, not just bartering for goods like you do when we need it." He noted out loud. "You've always had a knack for the more mechanical."

His daughter didn't appear to be listening. She fiddled with a tool, spinning it against the tabletop. Furrowing a brow, he silently took the empty teacup next to her and ambled to the kitchen.

"So many people grumble about the rain, muddying up the streets-" Carefully he poured her a fresh cup, then poured himself one as well. "But I have always found it most soothing. Good for nerves" Coming back around, he set the cup in front of her.

She finally looked up, drawn out of her thoughts. "Thank you, Papa."

"Keep you warm, darling." Patting her shoulder, he pulled up a chair. "I hear it too, by the way."

Belle paused, meeting his eyes.

"It takes quite a bit of fortitude not to strike any of them." He announced protectively, rare anger in his naturally warm voice. "Particularly when it comes to the rumors specifically about you. No matter how ridiculous they can be." Taking a sip, his eyebrows raised as he remembered a particular piece of information. "Did you know you're a werewolf?"

"That's a new one." She played with her hair anxiously. "But that doesn't bother me, it's just gossip."

"Oh I know, however, it's hateful gossip." Maurice drew his cup to his lips.

"He _is_ going to Versailles though." The thought dropped her shoulders. "For a month. That's all true, Papa."

"Are you worried about him?" There was a long silence, the rain pattering on the windows. A soft rumble of distant thunder.

"More worried about his family." She managed. Her mouth going slack, head sagging down. "His eyes, Papa."

Maurice reached out and touched her knee.

"He was happy when he came over, but I could still see it. That look, all of that pain he was trying to hide that came back with them arriving." Fingers braiding her hair to give them something to do. "It was worse yesterday. I haven't seen that rage and sadness since-" She looked up at him earnestly. "I don't know if he can manage a month. And I don't know if I'll even get to see him before they throw him in a carriage."

"I suspect they'd have to drag that boy kicking and snarling all the way to Versailles if he didn't get to see you before leaving."

Belle chuckled at the truth in is words, releasing a painful smile.

"A month will soar by." He reassured. "And then you'll have him back, and he'll be tripping all over himself like he does when he sees you arrive."

"But for how long?"

Maurice furrowed his brows.

"Papa, I'm not stupid." Belle wanted to cry but carried on bravely. "I've been trying to ignore it since he became a prince. But that's it. He's a _prince._ "

* * *

"I heard about the sword fight."

Ansell looked up from his spot at the servant's table. He was done up as his father liked, sans wig which was resting on a chair. All silks and finery, looking somehow out of place both down below and up above.

Mrs. Potts set a steaming cup and platter with cookies in front of him, pulling a chair up next to her prince. The lightning clap sent a burst of light through the small windows.

He tilted her head silently at her about the rather childish cookies.

She nudged them closer.

"I tried to control my temper." Holding the dainty little bit of porcelain between his big hands, rubbing a thumb along the gold on the rim. Watching the ropes of aromatic steam curl up into the chilling air.

"Lumiere was concerned by what he saw."

The blue eyes looked up at her, unaware his friend had watched. "What did he see?"

"Only you fumble through the whole thing until you pounced on that bloody drunken snake and nearly cleaned his clock."

Ansell sighed heavily.

"You brother is trying to goad you, Love." The housemaid kept an eye on her maids and footmen as they hurried about to plate the dinner. "They both want to break you. Bring out the worst in you."

"They don't know what they're toying with." He pushed a fist across the table. "I only got _meaner_ when she cursed me. Until Belle came of course." The prince curled a lip. "They've never seen _him._ "

"And you don't need to use that to scare them." The poor boy. He was never good at playing the game of politics. Never a pretender, a liar, a serpent in the grass like the rest of them. His weakness had always been he had worn his emotions and opinions on his sleeve. It made him a terrible nobleman. "Master, we don't want you to fall back into your old ways."

"I'm not going to become a selfish playboy again, spending money left and right." The grumbling made him sink lower into his chair. Stomach sour with loneliness. "That's all changed, Mrs. Potts. I don't have a taste for that anymore."

"I don't think you remember it, Master." Folding her hands neatly in her lap, she studied the wrinkles coming in. "You were such a young thing when your mother passed. And you were so sweet and bright, gentle little soul you were."

His eyes flickered up.

"But when you father took you and put you in with your brothers, the first thing they all did was work you over. Teasing and bullying, making everything a competition. Making you mad, making you furious." Tears welled in her eyes, she fought back her anguish. "That's when your father made you selfish and unkind. They had broken your spirit so they took the pieces left and built you up again a monster."

Ansell clenched his jaw as her gaze found his and held fast.

"You be careful." She ordered. "They're aiming to break you all over again. And when they take you to court, we can't come and watch over you."

"Mrs. Potts I'm _trying_ really I am-"

"If you lose yourself, you lose her." Mrs. Potts impressed fiercely. "Don't you dare let that go. Keep that in the back of your mind every time they're spoiling for a fight."

He was about to say more when the door opened and Lumiere popped in. "Master, dinner is served."

Rising up, he straightened his waistcoat and jacket. "Thank you, Mrs. Potts." Voice sincere as Lumiere fitted the wig back on.

"Anytime, Dearie." Getting up, she sighed. "Well, I need to go see about getting the parlor fixed for when you retire."

Nodding his head, he swiped two cookies. Sticking one in his mouth, stealthily passing one to Chip as he headed out the servant's entrance to the dining room. Tousling the boy's hair.

Lumiere chuckled as he followed his prince to the dining room.

* * *

*Day Eight*

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Maurice asked, lashing his easel down in the cart. His daughter was lingering behind, melancholy in her normally bright and curious eyes. "It _is_ Paris. You could always have a bit of an adventure, see the sights."

She sighed, arms wrapped around herself. "Someone needs to stay home and look after everything." Surveying their modest grounds broodingly she added. "The rain left some work."

Stopping his preparations, he cupped her cheek. "I'm always happy to have your company on these outings."

Smiling into his palm, she held it there. Kissing the inside of it. "I'll be fine, Papa, really. I'll keep myself busy."

"I expect nothing less." He pressed a kiss to her forehead sweetly. "And I saw you have a fresh pile of books on top of your projects."

"They'll be read and completed." She reassured, watching him climb creakily up onto the bench of the cart.

"A rose?" He asked, fixing the reins.

"You know me well." She patted Philippe's flank.

"I love you, Belle."

"Love you too, have a safe trip." She watched him tug his cap down and flick the reins, Philippe walking off. Letting out a deep breath, she watched him disappear before going back inside.

* * *

"What are you thinking, brother?"

"That this wig is too hot." Ansell sighed, not touching his cognac as he watched his father smoke. Belle liked a nice red wine, normally a Bordeaux, he mused. Thinking about how it would stain her sweet lips.

"You'll have to get used to it, son." The Duke replied, drawing a long pull of smoke from his pipe. The clouds swirling up to the ceiling made him look like a dragon near a horde of gold. "I'll be out come tomorrow, but you'll be right behind me in a few days."

Ansell's eyes wandered about the parlor. A soft violin playing nearby, the light warm and dim by night. How many times had he and Belle retreated to the parlor for a book by the fireplace? She would get so sleepy he'd have to pester her up to bed.

"You'll be quite the sight at Versailles." His father said. Carefully snuffing his pipe, shaking the tobacco out and into an ashtray. "Tailor should finish your fitting, final touches here and there. You must be ready for your debut." He pressed. "Everyone will be watching you. Make an impression, show them who is the heir to my lands."

His son held his tongue, taking a breath instead. "Yes, sir." He finally managed, serious eyes fixated on the clock. How many hours left until morning, until the duke was climbing into his carriage.

"I must retire." The Duke said, slowly rising up. "I have a long trip in the morning. Goodnight."

Both sons wished his highness a good night and watched him exit the room like the stately man he was. The sharp blue gaze of the prince narrowing, ears honing in on the fading footsteps.

They finally disappeared. "Oh thank god." Peeling off his wig, he placed it on the globe next to his armchair. Untying his hair, running his fingers through it to relieve some of the heat.

"You should just crop it short," Leon suggested, ignoring the cat winding into the room.

"Oh no, I couldn't." He held his tongue as to the reason why. That clever girl from Villeneuve who loved to play with it. Standing, Ansell shucked off his coat and tugged loose his cravat. "I can't believe I used to enjoy wearing all of this." Sinking back into his chair, he picked up his glass.

"The light at the end of the tunnel for you, brother." Leon sipped.

"Yes, only to head into a much longer, colder tunnel." He grumbled, kicking the heels off as he reached down to pat Capitaine. He never wore heels when she was around. "You should be downright pleased, Leon. returning back to your paradise, away from the unrefined country."

"The Spanish girl has lost her charm." The viscount admitted, looking at his sibling half dressed. "And her lady's maids if I'm to be completely honest. I take it you were dressed more simply during your years in exile. The way you mope the more layers you're stuffed in."

"Didn't need so many what with all the fur. I ran warm." Ansel took a long pull of his drink, not liking the chit chat with Leon. It was always so duplicitous, a test of his wits. And he was at the end of those.

"I take it there are other influences that have made you prefer the more simple ways of life."

The prince looked up tensely.

"Seem to have made friends with your staff, friendly and as lax in their places as they are." He tossed back his drink. "And that _Belle-_ "

His jaw tensed, grip on the crystal tightening enough to force him to set it down.

"I must admit, I'm surprised. I remember your taste." Tsking, he drummed his fingers on the rich blue velvet arm. "She's such a plain thing, not as _ravishing_ as your others, no? Looks so out of place in this castle." Reaching over Leon poured himself another measure. "I can imagine her washing laundry, dirty children clung to her skirts. Or." Eyes shifting wickedly. "Perhaps someone to tend to you in your chambers when you tire of your wi-"

"DON'T YOU DARE SPEAK ANOTHER WORD." Ansell roared, baring his teeth. Leaping out of his chair. Bits of his wild nature crackling to the surface. Eyes absolutely blazing. Feral.

The viscount grinned in malice. "There he is. There's the brother I know. Almost thought I had you during the duel but that blasted girl." Getting up, sauntering over, looking his brother up and down as if he had just been discovered. "That's the _spirit_. It's good to see you're still in there. Meanest animal in the fight. Lord of all he so cruelly surveys. Took awhile, I was afraid you'd gone too soft."

"Don't you _ever_ speak of her again." He turned, the two beginning to slowly circle one another.

"I take it this is more than just a conquest this time around?" Leon's eyes wanted a reason to draw a sword. "You _love_ this one? That broke your stupid curse, right?"

He glowered silently. Trying to take deep breaths, to keep himself in check as Mrs. Potts had told him to.

"Is she really that good?" He chuckled. "Lord, if you weren't so possessive I'd ask for a g-"

Ansell threw him against the wall, pinning him.

Leon's eyes flew open, the whites like saucers.

"Don't you ever come near her." He snarled.

"You were never good at sharing your favorite toys." He coughed meanly, beginning to regret the move. His brother was much stronger than before. Even after the duel, quite bit stronger than he had anticipated.

He lifted Leon up off the ground by his lapels, one hand adjusting towards his throat. "I'll send you through the window you SLIMY LITTLE-"

"It's not me you need to worry about." The viscount struggled to breathe and pawed in vain at the hands keeping him up. The shock of fear coursing through him as he most certainly regretted his last few sentences. "He'll trace all your changes back to-"

Ansell dropped his brother, sending him crashing to the ground. A gasping, coughing mass of silk and rhinestones. "Did you horrible people ever consider I had to change _drastically_ to break the curse?" He began to pace like a caged thing.

"So you had to lose your fight? That's not what anyone wants in a ruler."

"I had to lose my selfishness." Chest heaving, wanting to be cruel to get him to leave. It always worked when they were small. Be the biggest, meanest, most entitled son. Leon couldn't fight that. A viscount couldn't fight with a prince. "Perhaps you may benefit from the same thing."

"And that meant kissing a farm girl?"

Ansell looked ready to throw him into a priceless vase.

A sense of self-preservation overcame Leon. His palms turned upward in surrender. "Very well, I won't speak of your peasant princess anymore. _"_

A threatening glare at his brother was followed by the viscount's quick escape.

Steadying his breathing, he sank into a chair. Looking up at the clock, shutting his eyes, counting the hours down.

* * *

*Day Nine*

* * *

The subjects stood on the steps of the castle, waving to the royal carriage and procession as it disappeared into the woods.

"Thank goodness." The Cadenza said under his breath to Mrs. Potts.

"Careful, Maestro." She whispered under a tight smile, as Leon and a remaining procession that was to take the prince back to Versailles stood on the other side of the steps.

"That man has terrible taste in music." He lamented, wild hair bouncing in the gentle breeze. "When do we get our Belle back?"

"It's not the same without her." His wife agreed. "I miss her singing to herself in the halls."

"And she has _excellent_ taste in music." He noted, which received a nod of agreement from the Madame.

Ansell drew his hand down, pausing for a moment to make sure they were out of sight. Whirling around, he stormed back inside.

Leon tilted his head before following.

"Oh dear." Mrs. Potts sighed, gathering her skirts to take up the chase with Lumiere and Cogsworth. Chapeau also trailing behind.

The Prince ripped his ornate jacket off.

"Brother-" Leon began.

"COGSWORTH." Ansell boomed, running up the stairs. "Prepare my horse. Commoner's saddle."

"Brother, where are you going?" Leon pressed, a wig being flung in his face. It tumbled carelessly down the steps after slowing him down.

" _Out_." He barked, charging into his chambers. "I swear Leon if you follow me any more before we leave or I find you anywhere near the west wing I'll toss you over a _balcony_."

Leon stopped dead in his tracks as the double doors slammed shut. The viscount turned as white as a sheet as the wood rattled on its heavy hinges. He straightened his coat, gave the help a scathing look, and slipped off.

"He can't go anywhere!" Cogsworth exclaimed as Mrs. Potts told a maid to get the stables and have Mr. Potts prepare the prince's horse. "He still needs to be caught up in-"

"Cogsworth!" Lumiere backhanded his friend's sleeve. "The Master has been trapped in the castle with his father for nine days _._ "

"Miracle they didn't kill one another." Mrs. Potts muttered to herself. Thankful the screaming and roaring would no longer continue.

"And he's not prepared for court yet he _leaves in three days."_ the majordomo huffed. "Of all the times to be so careless-"

"He barely saw Belle, Cogsworth." Mrs. Potts reminded him in a hushed tone.

"And that was days ago! And they are _young_." Lumiere hinted.

"Cogsworth, you're not going to win him back." The head of the house announced. The rustling in the royal chambers clearly clothes being stripped, boots shucked. "Give him some time." She turned to Lumiere. "When he comes tearing out of there fit to be tied, make sure he's at _least_ half dressed. That boy doesn't have much sense as it is right now."

Lumiere nodded his head as Mrs. Potts hurried off. Turning, he raised a brow. "Cogsworth, are you going to fight him when he opens that door?"

Cogsworth looked at the enormous hand-carved doors. Lions and bears battling amongst gold trees. Big, heavy, suddenly threatening. Grumbling to himself he shot Lumiere a venomous look and fussed over his cane. "I have too much to do to expel the energy to fight him." gathering his composure, he headed out.

Lumiere chuckled, folding his arms, nudging Chapeau who was not as merely amused.

Ansell came bursting out of his chambers wild with determination. Tricorn hat clutched in hand, cloak billowing behind him, he raced down the stairs.

"Master!"

Without a word, he went charging into the kitchen where Mrs. Potts walked towards him.

"Mrs. Potts do we-" she tossed a bottle, and he caught it. Inspecting the label, flashing a toothy smile. "Perfect."

"Now you tell Belle we miss her to pieces and we all want her home." She instructed. "And pace yourself with that Bordeaux."

"Thank you!" he caught her in a brisk hug.

"Horse is waiting out the door." She shooed, flicking him away with a towel. "Go on now, you big sod!"


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing he saw was Belle's furrowed brow.

The first thing she saw was how he was trying, and failing, to not look so rapturously excited to see her. She knew it so well, that smile. Mouth slightly open, corners of it somewhat lopsided, and his eyes so bright just like the first time she saw him after he had transformed into him. That big, boyish smile of his couldn't be suppressed.

"And what do I owe the pleasure?" She asked, playfully leaning against the door frame. Doing her best to not smile. No easy task. That look on his face was always adorable.

"A certain ruler left." Breathless from running his horse as well as seeing her for the first time in days, he waited to be invited in. The village hummed about its morning business like ants on a hill, the breeze winding through Villeneuve cool and sweet with late summer blossoms. Clearing his throat, he tried to compose himself. Collected, calm, smooth. He could do it.

"Really? Your father?" It was hard to toy with him. The time apart had affected her as well and there he was; tall, striking, and ever so slightly eager. Trying so hard not to be. It made him all the more endearing.

He nodded his head, slowly.

"My father's gone too-"

The blue eyes widened at his sudden good fortune. "Oh?"

Belle nodded her head demurely, looking up through her eyelashes. "To Paris, he's painting a portrait for a noble."

"Hmm." The prince struggled to keep himself composed as her eyes languished up his body. It was torturous when her lower lip rolled into her mouth as if there was some delicacy presented before her.

"He won't be home for a few days _at least."_

His mouth felt so dry.

"So I shouldn't be inviting men in." She began to slowly close the door, grinning as a brief moment of shock passed over his face.

"Oh, you wicked-"

"I'm sorry, Monsieur. People would _talk._ "

A big hand stopped the door from shutting.

Belle shrieked playfully as he pushed his way in. "Monsieur!"

"They already talk!" Grabbing her and lifting her up, laughing with her Ansel spun his love around. "They say "how did such a beauty end up _with him_?""

She kissed her prince passionately. Holding his face in her hands, letting out a whimper. His boot swiftly kicked the door shut.

He came up for air and it took a while for his eyes to focus. "Oh, I have missed you so much." Ansell grinned at the sweet mouth that mocked him so, setting her down.

The blue gaze still held so much pain and exhaustion, dark rings rimming them, but they already looked brighter. A playful half-smile was on her lips as she fingered a loose lock of golden hair. Brown eyes dark, burning, passionate. "Prove it."

A wolfish look broke across Ansell's face, followed by a hungry growl. Belle felt hot as she flushed from her head to her shoulders, fingers quickly going to work on his waistcoat. He dipped his head to kiss her, but then pulled back, stopping her hands.

Breathless, Belle stared up at him in confusion. Frustrated they weren't already up the stairs, puzzled as to why he would stop. "What-"

"You sure you don't want to just read?"

Narrowing her eyes, she took him by the wrist and dragged him, ignoring his smug laughter. "You think you're so funny-"

"Well, you started it."

* * *

Ansell felt heavy as he awoke. His sleep had been deep, restorative, and the quilt folds had left lines on his skin. It took his eyes a while to open, and he smacked his lips to help his dry mouth.

Belle wasn't next to him.

Confused, the prince pulled himself out of bed, scooping his breeches and shirt off the floor and putting them on before wandering downstairs.

She was in the living area, curled in a chair with a blanket covering up her legs and feet, reading a book. Breathtaking in her simplicity, face twitching every so often as she turned a page.

Taking a step a floorboard creaked, giving him away.

Belle looked up, tickled by how groggy her love was. "You really wore yourself out there, Your Highness."

"How long have I been out?" He yawned, padding over.

"A few hours." Carefully she tucked the ribbon of her book between the pages. "I woke up about an hour and a half ago."

Standing behind the chair he bent over and gave her a quick kiss. Such a simple act felt so good after days apart. "Thank you for letting me sleep."

"You were exhausted," She noted. "That and after I got up you sort of sprawled across the bed and took up the whole thing. It was rather cute." A hand reached around, stroking her cheek, and she leaned into it. Oh, how good it felt to feel such a small action. She had missed being touched.

"Do you have anything to do?"

"Just spend time with you." Taking his hand, she kissed his wrist. Missing his hands, as gentle as they were.

"I like that answer." Watching her get up, he cocked his head to the side and caught her by her wrist. "Where are you going? I just got here."

Smirking, she tugged her arm away but was suddenly stopped by him taking hold of her apron and tugging gently. "I was going to put the kettle on."

Huffing forcefully, he dropped his shoulders, pulling a little harder.

A brow quirked in amusement. "I'll be right back." He refused to let go, a small smile spreading ever wider across his striking face. "So how long do I have you?" playfully leaning back so he had to keep her up, Belle watched his expression sink.

"Until late morning tomorrow." Ansell sighed, pulling her over to him, Belle's hands on his arms as she slipped into the spot against his chest. Reaching up, his fingers brushed back a stray lock of brown hair that always seemed to escape her braid. "But I plan to sneak back after that."

"Oh, you do?" Toying with the corner of his shirt she enjoyed watching his mischievous lips. They twitched, trying to conceal the joy that wanted to break across them.

The prince's eyes sparkled as he fiddled with her skirt. "I feel it's my obligation, as a gentleman, to offer a young lady companionship when she is alone by herself."

Belle giggled. "Oh really?"

It was so hard to not grin at her. "Oh yes."

"How genteel of you." Smoothing her hand across his chest, she enjoyed their little game. Back at home they had so many. The chocolate eyes flickered seductively while she reached down and tugged at the waistband of his breeches. "And you'll be an honorable man I suppose; protecting her virtue."

"I'm beginning to think my virtue may be the one that needs protecting." It fell apart into laughter. Kissing, petting, nuzzling. Wanting to remember the moment, wanting it to last forever. The sunshine through the windows, the simplicity of the day. Her sweet, playful face. His handsome, eager smile. Just themselves, no obligations nor monsters lurking about. It was heavenly.

In the end, she was leaning against his chest, facing outwards, arms wrapped around her, a stubbled chin on her shoulder. "What do you want to do?" She whispered.

"Be lazy with you." He mumbled contently. Belle smelled like summer; wildflowers and sunshine. It was intoxicating after days apart. How was he supposed to go a whole month? "Read, rest, maybe go back upstairs after a while? We never got our day to recuperate in the library after the celebration."

"Hmn, that sounds perfect." Feeling a soft kiss on the side of her head, Belle patted an arm. "If you let me go put the kettle on I'll be right back and we can be as lazy as you want."

"I'll hold you to it."

* * *

"Where is he?!" Cogsworth looked fit to burst a gear as he stormed through the halls. The dining room had been empty, devoid of anyone who should be eating the hearty spread the chef had presented.

Leon stepped out of his apartment, looking around keenly. His lithe Spaniard girl at his side and draped on his arm as an accessory. Carefully, he went down the stairs. Always listening.

The Spaniard opened her mouth, but he gently pressed a finger to her lips, clinging to the walls.

"He hasn't returned?!" The Englishman's voice rose in dread. "It's NIGHT!"

* * *

Ansell came padding back into the room, back in his breeches and shirt after a rather long stint without them on. Her bedroom was warm, musky, lit by the flickering candlelight. Small, simple, a far cry from the gilded chambers of home.

Belle turned, in her nightgown and wrapped in a quilt, smiling. "There you are."

"I was feeling peckish." He explained, setting a platter of bread, cheese, honey and summer berries on the nightstand. "And thought it may be wise to subsist on something other than a bottle of wine."

"You opened it." She said as he climbed back into her bed. His back rested against the headboard with a stray foot dangling over. Soon her head was settled on his leg, arm thrown over his lap, the rest of her curled sleepily on the mattress.

He took a moment to stare at her, so peaceful. Slowly he began combing his fingers through the brown locks. "You were thirsty."

She looked up at him. "I asked for _tea._ "

* * *

"What do you mean he's not back?!"

"Cogsworth, one can assume by the way he looked he won't turn up until the morning." Lumière noted calmly "The poor fellow was fit to climb zee walls."

"That's not an excuse when there is so much more to do!" He lamented. "So much is expected of that boy now-"

"Let him have his time." Lumière dismissed. "He'll be gone for a month. Away from _her_ for a month! Give them time, give them _space_."

"He has _duties-"_

"He is in love, Cogsworth! He has _desires."_ The servant had a knowing smile while a seductive raise of his brow came over his face.

"He still hasn't told her he's leaving for a month!"

* * *

Ansell smiled playfully as he tossed a berry into his mouth. "You still drank."

"Because you're a bad influence." She stretched, lazily, enjoying his presence. His fingers playing with her hair, his warmth, his breath.

"Why thank you. Do you think they can add that to my title? _Prince Anselme, Future Duke of Bad Influence._ "

Belle laughed, kissing his knee. "This was a good day."

"I agree. We did very little." Rubbing her back soothingly he thought how thankful for the time he was. The night not only felt well-needed but also precious with the shadow of Versailles looming in the quickly closing distance.

"The variety wasn't anything special-" She picked at his breeches. Seeing as they had been off most of the day she wasn't very fond of them being on.

"Reading, napping, having lots and lots of-"

"But what we did do we did it _well_." Belle finished her sentence.

"Veerrrrry well." He grinned, content and listening to her let out a tired laugh. "I have to admit, the napping was also nice. I haven't been able to get any rest since you left."

"Same." Closing her eyes, Belle felt his fingers running alongside her back in a soothing motion.

* * *

"He _needs_ to talk to her!" Cogsworth squawked.

"It's not that easy." Mrs. Potts shook her head slowly. "That poor boy has been so busy fending his father and brother off he hasn't even thought about telling her. Let alone knowing what he'd say."

* * *

"But as nice as this is, and as much as I've appreciated having you all to myself, we should probably talk." Belle's voice became somber as she drew circles on this knee. She could feel him pause in hesitation. "About how you're leaving for a month, even though you don't want to tell me about it."

* * *

"Surely you're not too old to remember what that was like? Or are all those gears a bit rusty?"

"I remember my youth, you overgrown candlestick!"

* * *

He was quiet, dazed at the topic.

"It's a small village, Ansell. People talk. Especially about the nobles." She reminded him, sitting up. "The prince going to Versailles, going to court? That's quite exciting for a place where the biggest scandal is a habitually loose cow."

Eyes downcast, he pushed the plate of food away.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Belle asked, hurt the information had been through all of the terrible gossiping. A pang sunk her stomach with worry and quickly flooded through her. "You could have at least sent word. And even then, you could have told me when I visited."

* * *

"The time they have is precious." Mrs. Potts voice rang clearly, sorrowfully. "Heavens knows how long they have before the court demands he begins his royal duties."

"How do we break that to them?" Lumière's voice peaked sorrowfully. "That the curse is over, but the French Court will be even more difficult?"

* * *

"I didn't want to spoil our night." He hedged softly, guiltily.

"It wouldn't have spoiled it. I need to hear these things from _you_." She pressed in earnest.

"Belle, I didn't want to say anything because I…" Ansell exhaled heavily "I suppose if I told you, then it would be real. It would be really happening." Running his fingers pensively through his hair, he took a steadying breath. It did little to help. "Not to mention I just wanted to come here and be with you and forget the last week or so." Lifting his head, hair cascading into his face, the prince of the province looked at her forlornly. "Belle as much as I don't want to think about it; since we _are_? It's not just going to court. It's-" suddenly, it felt harder to breathe with the thought, the topic. What he dreaded and wished he didn't have to say the most. "Darling, it's-"

"The fact they're not going to let us marry." She finished. Bitterness seeping into her heart with every word.

* * *

"Everyone in this castle is so _eager_ to let those two do whatever they want, _whenever_ it suits them!"

"Cogsworth, they're young and in love." Mrs. Potts tried to give a reasoned explanation. "And the road ahead of them-"

"We need to be realistic my dear Mrs. Potts." He stuffed his hand into his waistcoat, mustache twitching with anxiety. "The court doesn't care about what little time they have or how deep their love is." He shook his head as Lumiere began to open his mouth in protest. "I know I sound cold, and I apologize, but we need to be pragmatic. What they _do_ care about is Belle's _lineage_. Does no one remember the rules of the court? And is no one concerned about letting them carry on like this?" Cogsworth sank into a chair in a fit of exhaustion. Taking out his handkerchief out of his coat sleeve he dabbed his face, bits of powder flaking off.

Lumière was clueless, but the housemaid looked away. Her eyes went to the intricate wood floors, the boards laid in perfect geometry.

"You know what I'm talking about." Wagging a finger at her, he sighed.

"Cogsworth, what on Earth _are_ you talking about?" Lumière began.

"I'm talking about this frequent expression of the Prince's _virility_ inevitably causing an added complication." the majordomo watched their faces fall. "You all know his father wouldn't stand for a girl like Belle-"

"You mean a _peasant_ girl," Lumière said defensively.

* * *

His eyes were suddenly red. Wet, hot, furious.

Belle swallowed thickly, soldiering on. "The fact that a peasant girl would never be welcome in court, even as your mistress."

"I would never want you to be my mistress." His voice cracked, struggling to look at her.

"I would _never_ agree to that." She corrected. "I'm just saying it because it's the truth. Because it means I'll never be accepted as a princess, much less a kept woman." Sliding her hand into his own, she squeezed it. Her face felt hot, numb. It was the last thing she wanted to think about as they were nestled so comfortably, yet it was necessary to their survival together.

"You've been thinking about this?" His voice was low, crackling with emotion. "You've-"

"I happen to read a lot."

Ansell let out a strained chuckle even though he felt like he was sinking into a morass of despair.

* * *

"A girl of the lowest station," Cogsworth put delicately "producing an heir with the prince."

"Well, Cogsworth, that hasn't happened yet now has it." Mrs. Potts huffed, her voice protective towards the pair she loved so dearly.

"With their amorousness, it's only a matter of time." Suddenly his expression shifted. Cogsworth was no longer upset, he was deeply concerned for their mademoiselle. "And his father is a _terrible_ man. A terrible man who has already done terrible things."

"He wants to marry the Master off to the biggest dowry." Lumière agreed, shaking his head slowly. "He always has."

* * *

"You father," she chose her words carefully "he strikes me as the type of man who becomes very dangerous when things don't go his way."

"Yes, yes." The blonde head nodded as he whispered, "He's a cruel man."

Unable to look him in the eye, she studied their fingers. Intertwined, so strong when linked together. "This was never going to be a happily ever after for us."

* * *

"He'd harm her for far less than an heir." Mrs. Potts dragged her hand across her mouth. "And he'd harm the Master too if he needed to. We're going to have to be careful with them. He'll tear them both to pieces if the Master pushes back."

"This is what I've been trying to say!" Cogsworth agonized.

"Well, you've been saying it terribly while the Duke has been running you ragged," Lumière responded.

"I have duties!"

"Cogsworth we know that." Mrs. Potts reassured. "Which is why we're taking the time to come together now before they shove that poor lad into a carriage and take him away from the only good thing he's ever had."

* * *

Bringing their locked fingers up Ansell kissed Belle's. "I wish it had been." her prince muttered sadly, the sorrow back in the front of his blue eyes. "I don't want to go. I don't want to play their stupid games and watch some king put on his shoes and take his rings off every day." His chest heaved and he began to curl his lip in disgust towards it all. "I don't want to hear about marriageable women who would improve our standing. I don't want to be a part of my father's awful legacy. I want to be with _you_." Ansell squeezed her hand. "I want to give it all up if that means we're together. I truly mean that, Belle. It's nothing without you, without _us_."

"Do you know when he expects you to marry?" She asked. Hating the question, hating it had to be asked. The thought of him being pushed down the aisle made her ill and her head ache. Everything a dense, sad fog laced with a pulse of anger towards his horrid father. Running a palm up his muscled torso, she splayed her fingers out over his chest. Pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. Feeling Ansell relax to her touch, a small amount of the worry leaving his body. Belle wished she could take all of it away. He was so worn down.

"He said we didn't have to discuss for awhile since I need time to readjust." Wrapping an arm around her, Ansell pulled her close.

* * *

"Which is why the Master needs to _be here._ " the majordomo pressed. "He needs to be able to placate his father when he's at Versailles while we come up with some kind of plan!"

"Cogsworth," Mrs. Potts shook her head slowly, tiredly. Two months of peace just was not enough. "as practical as that is, we need to let him be unpractical for just a bit. He needs to find his center again, and nothing in the castle can do that."

* * *

"Then we have time." Leaning against him, she nuzzled, letting go of his hand and settling in closer. Feeling so uncertain, yet so safe in the small bedroom in Villeneuve. "We'll figure this out. We've been through worse."

"How are you so-"

"Hopeful?"

"I was going to say stubborn but _I suppose_."

Belle smacked Ansell's arm playfully, gently. Listening to his soft chortle of amusement. "Because I love you so much I'd fight them all off to keep you," She said honestly. "And I know you'd do the same."

Ansell smiled down, kissing her tenderly.


	8. Chapter 8

Ansell awoke to a crick in his neck.

Looking down he found Belle against him in peaceful, deep sleep. They were both in the nude, clothes cast aside during a rather soothing round of lovemaking after such a difficult discussion. He took the time to watch her; enjoying the feeling of the weight of her body on the mattress, the warmth of her against his chest, head nuzzled under his, arm thrown over his torso, leg hooked around one of his own. Entangled in him, as if to moor him to the province.

Eventually, he carefully disengaged himself from their cozy little spot. Doing his best not to disturb Belle as he dressed and made his way down the stairs.

Ansell stood there for a long while, looking about the small house as morning crept over the tops of the village in the faint, dusty pink of sunrise. There were no servants already up lighting fires and answering rung bells. No trays of food that could be brought into a perfectly set dining room. All of those uniforms and customs didn't exist in the little house in the little village. Simply a hearth that had burned down to embers and the small stores of food in the kitchen.

This is what she was used to waking up to.

Furrowing his brows, hands rubbing together in determination, Ansell rolled up his sleeves. He had hidden in the kitchen and watched Mrs. Potts enough to know what to do. At least he thought and hoped he did.

* * *

Belle came down the stairs. Tying her hair back, smiling at the prince in the kitchen making coffee.

As she looked at the bottom level, she began walking much more slowly.

Ansell turned, golden and buttoned in his commoner's clothing. "Good morning, Mademoiselle."

"Good morning, Monsieur." Keenly studying everything as she wandered over to him, she peered into the other room. "Did you get the fire started?"

"I did." He smiled. "Coffee?"

Distractedly she took the cup from him. The house tidier than they had left it before.

"I swept but… I don't think I did a very good job of it." He nudged milk and sugar over to her, observing her reaction.

"Oh, thank you." Taking the time to add the cream to her coffee, she looked up to the basket on the kitchen counter. Her head tilting to the side. "You got the eggs from the chickens?"

"Fed them too, as well as fed and watered the horses. I also brought some firewood and water in." He explained, watching her mind at work.

Belle, realizing, looked down at the bottle of milk. "Wait, where did you get milk?"

"From Monsieur Laurent." He took a deep breath, when her eyes met his he suddenly became sheepish. "I was going to buy it but then I realized, unfortunately, royalty doesn't carry money which… come to think of it… is rather stupid." He parsed out "So I may have traded a few eggs?"

Squinting, her mouth fell open ever so slightly. Pensive, bemused, silent.

It was killing him.

"Ansell?"

He looked at her expectantly, big-eyed and awaiting approval.

"You got the house started all by yourself." Amazement and pride surged through her. Getting up on the tips of her toes she gave him a kiss.

"Do I get one of those every time I learn something around here?" He asked playfully, sliding a hand around her back.

Belle rolled her eyes at him. "No, because we'd both get too distracted." Watching him pout, she took a sip of her coffee. "Won't work."

"The only thing I didn't start was breakfast." He admitted. "I dare say I'm not quite brave enough for that yet."

"Well, breakfast isn't a very formal affair in this house." She explained. "It's bread, cheese, ham, and whatever fruit we can get." Moving away from the prince, she went about getting all of the food together. "Occasionally, if we're feeling daring, there's an omelet."

"The former sounds fine." Ansell watched her get out a stool. Reaching over he grabbed the package on the shelf that was too high for his love.

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry if this sounds tone deaf and aristocratic, but what do you and your father cook?" He asked with a sip, watching her carefully slice a baguette.

There was a light laugh, a shaking of her head as she stopped what she was doing for a moment. "Nothing, if we can help it." Seeing Ansell's puzzled brow she kept slicing. "Papa is a terrible cook and _he_ taught _me_. So this kitchen doesn't get much use with the two of us." Carefully she laid the slices out on a wooden board. "We have a garden and eat a lot of fresh vegetables and fruits in the summer, and I barter with some of the housewives. I'll trade them some of the food we've grown or I'll fix something in their house and they cook a meal for us or can some preserves. That way we have something hot or something that lasts through the winter."

"Hm. You know, that's pretty clever." His eyes shifted to the side to catch a glimpse of her. Setting his cup down he slid behind her and snaked a hand around her waist, pressing a kiss to the back of her head. "Not that I would expect any less from you."

"Clever is how we've lasted this long." Closing her eyes, setting the knife down, she patted the hand on her flat belly. There were a smattering of kisses on the side of her neck, and she reached behind her to stroke his face. "Ansell-"

"Hm?" He grinned into her neck.

"Remember what I said about getting too distracted?" She chuckled, trying her hardest to not get swept up in his moment.

"Breakfast, right." Reluctantly letting go, he took a step back. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just hold that thought."

He grinned at the prospect of returning to that thought as he watched her unwrap the cheese. "So is this lack of culinary skill why Mrs. Potts is always sending you over food?" Taking the bread he wrapped it and put it back where she had taken it out.

Belle nodded her head, still trying to recover from his detour. "She's scared we'll starve to death between the two of us. But really, we're alright. We've always managed." She watched him help with breakfast, going and getting the fruits he had discovered the night before. Musing over his willingness to learn more about her way of life and not just steal her away into luxury, she blushed a bit. He was trying, truly. "I must say, your surprise visit was _very_ welcome."

"I'm glad I wasn't the only one with that the feeling." He rumbled happily as he used a ladle of water to wash a handful of strawberries covered in a thin film of dirt and dust. "Though your bed-".

"My bed?" She quirked a brow.

"It's very… slender."

"It's not made with suitors in mind." Setting her knife down she watched him put the fruit in a bowl, furrowing his brows, scowling playfully.

"Well that's ridiculous." he scoffed, turning to her, watching her walk over. "Why would anyone want a bed they couldn't-"

She shut him up with a kiss. It was so hard not to kiss him, not after all of the petting he had just teased her with.

His eyes glazed over for a moment. "And also?" He caught his breath, a loose, dreamy smile threatening to come across his mouth. "It's a very short bed. Clearly made for a slight young lady who hates doing laundry."

Trying so very hard to keep a straight face and not smile at him. "Sounds like it's the right size then."

"My feet were hanging off the end." An overdramatic, joyful, impish lament. "Do you have any more chores I can help with? Things on high shelves? I'm pretty good at that."

"I'm sure I can put you to work somewhere." Grabbing the fingers, she kissed them.

"Mademoiselle, your wish is my command."

"My wish is to eat." She pressed, smiling mischievously. "Because I'm _famished._ "

* * *

"Thank you, Monsieur." Belle smiled as she took the loaf of bread from the baker, paying him with two coins.

Ansell tipped his cap, pulling it down over his sharp eyes. He rather gamely carried their basket of goods, which was growing by the minute. It had started with some eggs and produce from the garden Belle had used to barter for ripe summer fruits and a pot of honey. She sold cabbages to a woman, giving her the coins to pay for the bread. Gradually, more things had been added to the haul. A small bag of salt, preserves that were owed from a trade, and other groceries.

"Your hair down and your stubble really do make you invisible," Belle said as she tucked the bread into the basket, grabbing a handful of grapes they had just bought and snacking idly. Mulling over how nice the stubble looked.

"I rather like being invisible." He admitted, following her through the throngs of people in the market. Ducking as a chicken burst in front of him, determined to outrun a clumsy butcher.

"So what are you doing at the castle today?"

Groaning, he rolled his eyes. "Cogsworth has been schooling me ever since my father returned."

Belle shook her head, mildly amused by how this prince could be so petulant.

"He's so boring. He goes on and on and on." Using his free hand he mimicked a mouth endlessly chattering.

"So what are you learning?" Taking his arm, she tugged him out of the way of a fish monger throwing a catch from a cart into a stall.

Ansell shrugged, lip curling. "Things?"

Belle looked at him, taken back, slowing her pace. "You do know things have happened since…" the brown eyes shifted around the market cautiously to make sure there weren't curious ears nearby. "You had your accident."

"Well, yes-but-"

"We just lost a war, a very big one, with England."

"Wait, we did?"

Belle hit him in the shoulder disbelief, glaring at him rebukingly.

"Belle, he's a terrible teacher." the prince whined. "And my father is a terrible teacher too. He took over for a spell and it was mostly court politics. Ugh, boot kissing some king. Some _Louis."_ The words were grumbled out in annoyance. _"_ I can't even remember what number we're on, they're all named the same thing."

"You know, learning all of this sounds fascinating to me." She stopped, petting one of the vendor's donkeys.

"Really?"

"You're learning about the world from the people are are important enough to have a say in it." She explained, eager towards the prospect of education. "That's amazing."

"It's just a class."

"I've never been in a class."

Taken aback, he cocked his head to the side. "Really? But you're so-"

"Self-taught." She explained, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. "My father taught me in the beginning, but I've always tried to find books on things that have interested me so I could keep learning." Belle glanced over her shoulder to the school. How desperately she had wanted to go when they had arrived in Villeneuve. How crushed she had been when Maurice had gotten into a shouting match with the headmaster about how his daughter was forbidden to learn in school. "There aren't many options here, or any, really. Luckily, I have a friend who's always lent me books. And Papa has always tried to buy me ones when he can find them used."

Catching her line of site, he looked at the school and through the windows. All boys reciting their readers, a gloomy headmaster slapping a desk to straighten up an insolent student. "Oh." A wave of guilt overcame him. He had taken his entire education for granted while Belle, clearly smarter than him he felt, craved to learn and had been denied. Good god, he probably sounded like such an entitled ass. Ansell looked out over the market thoughtfully. "Then why don't you come and listen?"

Belle gazed up at him, her hands under the donkey's cheeks, the creature happily nuzzling her.

"Well, you could learn with me in class and see how agonizing Cogsworth makes all of it." He suggested. "Then we can slowly die of boredom together. Mrs. Potts can find our skeletons hunched over the table afterward."

She laughed, rolling her eyes at him. "I thought I was in exile while your family's still around?" They started walking again and Belle waved to her friend who she was teaching to read. Ignoring the headmaster who had come out of his small kingdom and scowled down at her from his steps.

The sharp blue eyes narrowed at the headmaster. "Let's just say my brother and I have come to an understanding."

She stared at him suspiciously.

"What?" He asked cagily.

Belle shrugged, knowing it would be discussed later. "If I'm invited to sit in on these sessions, I'd love to." She replied. "I'd also love to see all of my friends. And this time actually see them and not just rush in to save you with a sword."

He dismissed her teasing, though she always looked so lovely doing it. "They miss you terribly. I've been told _multiple_ times to let you know the castle isn't the same when you're gone."

"That's very sweet." A rising argument down the path made them turn. Two men shoving one another.

"The price is too high!" The more portly one said.

"If you want a better price, go and hunt yourself!" The young man shoved.

Ansell arched a brow, moving forward out of instinct. Belle held a hand out, blocking him to keep him from getting involved and exposing himself.

"The game prices are just so high now that Gaston is gone." A woman clucked to another, adjusting the toddler on her hip. "Such a good hunter that one was."

"No one else was so successful." The other shook her head. "And decorated! A soldier!"

"And what do we have now? A _prince_."

Belle's eyes dropped. Gently, she took his wrist, pulling him through the market. "Come on, we don't need to hear this."

"A prince who fell in love with that artist's daughter. The _odd one._ What a scandal! A commoner and a prince! I hear his father-"

Ansell snorted air out his nose, rolling his shoulders to shake it off. Turning his attention to Belle, he saw how her spirits dropped. Another dig. Another reminder she was out of place. The odd girl. "Why did we throw a party and invite all of them again?" he muttered broodingly.

"Because the people upset are a loud minority." She reassured. "But they're very loud." Taking a deep breath, Belle steadied herself and tried to lighten the mood once more. "That's just the regular gossip. You should hear the outlandish ones."

"Oh really?"

"Apparently I'm a werewolf."

Ansell laughed loudly, deeply. "You?"

"I am." She laughed, playfully bumping him with her hip as she stole more grapes.

"Well, where were you, all big and hairy when I was big and hairy?" He said dryly. "I really could have used the company. Some creature of the night you are."

"I'm sorry I'm such a disappointing werewolf." Belle quipped.

"Suppose I can live with you." The prince sighed mischievously. Walking in stride with her he nudged her with his hand, catching her attention. "You know, we should just run away together."

The announcement was met with a curious smile. "And where would we go?"

"Anywhere we desire." He offered. "We can do whatever we want now that I don't quite literally stand out in a crowd. The world our oyster."

"Do you think the book could assist in said running away?" She mused.

"Of course it can! We could go wherever we want. The wilds of Africa, London, perhaps _fair Verona_?" He raised a tantalizing brow. "I hear there are mermaids in Denmark and a queen with the magic of ice in Norway. Or the great sultans and palaces of the Arabia! Monkeys and panthers and tigers in the jungles of India?" Blue eyes sparkling with adventure.

She looked at him skeptically. "Mermaids?"

"I was a _beast_ who was _enchanted_ by a _magical curse_ and yet you're having problems with mermaids?" He gawked.

"Well, if you put it _that way._ "

Despite the fact that she was still not quite sold on the idea of mermaids, Ansell pressed on. "But, Belle, no matter where we go? We can see the world and escape terrible people and terrible sentiments."

"Escape small-minded people." She added, the idea sounding better and better.

"Tradition and obligation."

"Whispering and gossip."

Ansell unfurled his tongue out of his mouth in disgust. "Dowries."

A silent realization came over Belle, making her slow her pace. Furrowing her brows, nodding her head thoughtfully, she drew in a breath before releasing the idea into the world. "Alright, _realistically,_ where would we go?"

His boots slowed as it hit him what she was proposing. Their eyes met, and all of the market fell silent on their ears.

"Ansell, I'm serious." Belle stopped, turning to face him. "Instead of jumping around on holiday... If we run away-" her hand rested itself on his arm. So sincere and urgent. "If we escape? _Where would we go?_ "

His mouth opened, then shut. Brows pressing down, jaw tightening, the toe of his boot kicking down into the dirt. "I suppose... that's... something we should really think of."

"But you would?" It was hard not to have a twinge of doubt in her chest. That perhaps it was too much to ask, to give it all up.

His breath shuddered as a smile broke out across his face. "Of course, Darling." Turning, taking her hand with his free one, Ansell's eyes were soft and brimming with hope and love. "If this is the best way for us, without an entire class system trying to keep us apart? Then so be it." He so desperately wanted to kiss her. To drop the basket and hold her tight in reassurance. "We'll figure something out, I know we can."

She beamed, her heart settling with his comforting declaration. "I believe we should use the month you're away to both think it over." She squinted thoughtfully up at him. Those gears he knew so well turning cleverly. "Come up with some ideas? Then meet back up and form a plan."

Looking down at the basket of goods he paused pensively, hesitating to ask. "I suppose I wouldn't be a prince in any of these scenarios?"

Her frown was concerned yet determined. "I don't think so."

"Hm." He grunted. Ruminating over the prospect, gently nudging her to keep walking forward. "Sounds like I need to learn a few things other than chopping wood, making coffee, and carrying a basket around the market."

Everything suddenly felt a bit brighter. A trickling beam of sunny hope after their omnious talk from the night before. Belle gazed up at him, the determination beginning to take over. "Well, you're already doing pretty well around the house. We can start with some more intermediate lessons when you come back home. Perhaps the staff can help with your education."

Ansell stopped, eyes widening slightly in realization.

Belle stopped with him, running a hand down his arm. "What is it?"

He smiled. "What are your doing tonight?"

"Whatever you're doing tonight? I thought there was something involving our virtues."

"Wouldn't mind staying at the castle for the night? Having a later dinner?"

Belle stared at her prince.

He shifted uncomfortably. "What?"

A brow drew suspiciously. "What are you _planning_?"

"What? _Nothing_." he took a step to the side to avoid a woman with half a dozen screaming children.

She tilted her head, an amused smile pulling on her lips. "I love you so much but you're the _worst_ liar."

"Can't I just surprise you?" He asked, playfully frustrated.

"Alright." Belle conceded, giving his coat sleeve a tug to get him to move along once more. Pausing she eyed a vendor. "Actually, I think you can learn something new right now."

Interested, he followed her trail as she took off to a seller. Talking to a man who had large burlap sacks surrounding his stall, he watched her drop some coins into his palm.

"New lesson-" Belle took the basket from him. "Carrying the things I can't."

"Here you go, son." The man tossed one of the sacks at Ansell, and upon catching it he nearly collapsed to the ground.

"What is this?" He grunted, struggling to get a grip on the bag.

"Feed for the horses." She explained. "I always have to bring Philippe and the cart. But he's with Papa."

"Why-" huffing, he managed to throw it over his shoulder. "Why don't we just… have Cogsworth send what you need over?" They began to walk back towards the house, the prince trying not to stagger. "You wouldn't have to spend money."

"Because if we're talking seriously about you no longer holding a title, shouldn't you practice having to actually buy and barter for things?"

He looked down at her. So practical, keen, sunkissed from summer. "You do make an excellent point." Conceding, he studied what they had bought in the basket. "I should probably start earning and saving some money that isn't a royal pension."

"I think that'll come with you finding something to do besides being royal." She reassured.

"Belle!"

Turning, they saw Gustave coming up the street, waving enthusiastically.

Belle smiled.

Gustave looked over the handsome gentleman next to Belle and beamed. "Oh, Pr-"

Their eyes widened, the couple gesturing to him to not say it.

"Praaaal." Gustave stalled awkwardly. "Heeeeeeeeey Paaaaaal." Gently punching Belle's shoulder, he gave the fakest smile she had seen. "How ya doin'... Pal." Glancing at the prince, then at Belle, he leaned in. Whispering. "Sorry, why are we hiding?"

"We just want a quiet morning?" Belle supplied.

"Sometimes being royal isn't as fun as it looks." The prince adjusted his hat, shifting the weight of the sack of feed.

"Okay." Gustave paused, in thought. "So what do I call you?"

"Ansell."

"Actually I can see that. You look like an Ansell." Gesturing to the prince's body, it was met with a smile.

"Well thank you." Ansell brightened.

"Your other name is so formal and soooo... _long."_

Belle glanced between the two men. "Actually, Ansell, you can call him by his real name, Gustave."

"Really?" he furrowed his brows, noble face twisting up. "Why on earth were we calling you Le Fou? That's a dreadfully mean name."

"It's a long story," Gustave replied. "But yes, I do prefer Gustave."

"And unless it's formal, I prefer Ansell."

"Good to know. So how are you two?" He asked, folding his arms. "Aren't you going away?"

"For awhile." The noble shoulders tensed. "We're just trying to spend some time together before I have to leave."

"I'm sorry to hear that." He said sincerely. "I'll let you guys enjoy your day. But Belle? If you ever just want someone to talk to and keep you company?"

"Thank you. I'll certainly take you up on that offer." She smiled warmly. "How's Stephane?"

"Good." He brightened. "He's busy at his father's candle shop."

"I'm glad you two are well. Say hi for me."

"Will do. And I hope you two have a nice day." Before he parted ways, their friend paused. Furrowing his brows thoughtfully. "You ever thought of growing a beard?" He stroked his chin to emphasize his words. "I think it would really suit you."

Ansell didn't even have to look at Belle to know she was staring up at him smugly. "It's been suggested."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: A few things to be aware of. For the first time ever, in all my years of writing, I've gone back and broken up/rewritten some chapters. Specifically 4,5,6, which were originally just 4 & 5\. There's a heap of new content in there, and other chapters have been tweaked and refined if you'd care to go back and read. But you don't have to if you don't wish to. I dislike reworking after publishing, but there were some gaps that needed to be filled and a moment to allow the story to breathe. That said, this is a new chapter, and I hope to keep you all entertained as we continue. _

* * *

They rode up to the castle, giving the stable master the horses before slipping in through the kitchen door to avoid the brightly colored men and their muskets adorned with the Duke's crest out front.

Ansell stopped in the servant's corridor, looking at her fondly, reluctantly, in the dim light. Taking the much smaller hands and squeezing them.

"You have to go." She coaxed, watching the weariness creep back around the edges of his eyes.

"I do." He sighed. "But, remember, the most boring class you'll ever take is after lunch in my office and you're now a pupil."

It was hard to smile at his joke when his misery was slowly returning in front of her. "You have an office?"

"Apparently." Ansell eyed the door hesitantly, as if it may swallow him up. "It's in the west wing, someone can show you up. But I'll be there as the worst schoolboy you've ever seen."

She chuckled. "That sounds very plausible." Belle squeezed his hands back. "And I'll be here, home."

He eased himself at the reassurance. Belle home again, where she needed to be.

She shooed him out the door. Watching him change, his presence, his posture, his eyes, as he re-entered a world he was fighting. It worried her, seeing him become so on edge. So worn after just nine days of being with his family.

Hearing Cogsworth chastising Ansell up the stairs about a fitting appointment that was supposed to be going on that very minute, she heard him snap back. An angry response. It hurt. Maneuvering her way through the obstacle course that was the kitchen in full swing, she wove through the castle. It was remarkably chillier than she had last left it. Devoid of the Madame and Maestro working on a new piece of music, or the castle children shrieking down the halls in play or begging for a story. The air felt stale, the drapes too stiff, it didn't feel like home. Clearly, the Duke needed to be kept at Versailles if it was what he had left in his wake.

She saw Leon, who paused, looked immensely nervous at her presence, and briskly walked the other way. Pursing her lips, she watched him disappear into a salon. His voice ordering a drink.

"Belle!" Madame took her by surprise with an embrace so quick and warm she didn't have time to prepare nor catch a breath. "Oh, our dear Belle." She sang. "Our home hasn't been the same."

"I've missed you all too." She hugged back, being released to go right into Cadenza's arms.

"It's like the light has gone with you, my dear." He told her fondly, cupping her cheek with a fatherly palm. "The music not as sweet nor as sincere."

"I miss your songs." The pang of her family being so far away seeped into her stomach. Her father was the only other person outside of this new kin who could make her feel like she was a perfect fit. "Maestro, did you get new teeth?"

"Thank you for noticing! The finest from Paris." He grinned proudly.

"You look fetching." Belle kissed his cheek. "I can't wait to hear what you've been working on."

"You must! Noel is just around the corner, you know."

"Belle!" If her presence had been a secret, it no longer was as Chip came barreling at her at full speed, Froufrou on his heels.

Moving away from the Maestro, she knelt and caught him. Squeezing him tightly, wanting another day with him. "Did you miss me?"

"Everyone misses you!" He lamented rather dramatically, grimacing when she kissed the top of his head. "Can you and me and the master go riding soon? That was so much fun."

Little Chip, sitting in front of her in the saddle, Ansell watching with his big smile. She snickered at the thought of the two ganging up on her and Ansell inevitably tossing her into the lake. "I'd love to. I still owe you some tickling." Jabbing her fingers into his sides, he yelped.

Squirming away, the boy laughed with her.

"Oh, our girl's home!" Mrs. Potts cried, gathering her up like a mother hen with a chick. "Oh, we've missed you, Love. You're our little light you are."

"I've missed you too." Belle hugged back.

"Lumiere! Cogsworth!" She called out. "Those two will be pleased as punch to see you." Cupping the girl's cheek, the Englishwoman kissed her forehead and let go, holding her out at arm's length. "Let me give you a good look over. You're well?"

"Fine, Mrs. Potts." She responded in bemusement to the inspection. "Very well, just ready to be home."

"You look skinnier, we'll have to see to that."

Belle gave a tense smile, not arguing with her friend. "I think I'm the same, but I do miss chef's cooking."

"There she is!"

She turned, beaming. "Lumiere!"

"Beautiful as ever, Mademoiselle!" He caught her in an embrace. "Are you staying for awhile? Without you, the Master is sooo-"

"Petulant." Cogsworth huffed as he slowly came over, adjusting his monocle. "Stubborn, fussy, immature, puerile, recalcitrant, pigheaded, take your pick."

"If he still had fur that would be called a normal Friday." She told the majordomo, going over to greet him, pulling him in her arms. He was so stuffy, never one to initiate any type of informal contact.

"He's been sooo grumpy." Chip piped, clinging to his mother's skirts.

"My dear, I'm so sorry I didn't say goodbye," Cogsworth told her sadly.

"Don't be, you've been busy with running the house in all this chaos." Patting his shoulder, she let go.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT." Ansell's voice boomed from upstairs.

Cogsworth groaned. "Fighting his fitting no doubt. I must go and see how he's treating Chapeau and the tailor." He headed up the stairs.

"Was he so angry when he came to you yesterday?" Everyone dispersed as Mrs. Potts gestured Belle to follow her.

"No, no he's been a little worn but he was eager, silly, sweet, slightly grouchy, very attentive, very _Ansell_." Entering a parlor, she watched Mrs. Potts correct a new maid with cleaning a fireplace. "He seemed a little… well like he was trying to hide how miserable he's been?"

"That he has." The head of the household shook her head, going over and adjusting a vase.

"Has he been acting more and more like his old self?" Belle asked cautiously.

"That poor boy has tried his hardest." Her voice was saddened at the thought. "He's been hiding when he can. But his father has tried his damnedest to get him back to his old ways and be a proper heir. And his brother's always been the instigator." Shaking her head, she picked a piece of lace from a sample a maid had brought out to place on a table. "His temper _has_ flared. But we've been keeping an eye on him. Seems more remorseful when he slips."

Not caring to stand around while the others worked, Belle took off her jacket and grabbed a bucket of soap to begin washing a window.

"Oh Dearie, leave that-"

"I'm not going to just watch you work and not help." She told her friend. "Outside of wanting to make him miserable, his father and brother?"

"They've been nightmares." Mrs. Potts grumbled. "The Duke had been running poor Cogsworth into the ground and ordering us all to "whip into shape" as if we don't work hard enough." She directed a girl to bring in a fresh pitcher of wine. "What he wants is for us to be more formal, more servant-like. And that viscount is just a bloody drunk. I swear we've gone through more wine than we did at the party, the lush."

Belle wrung out her sudsy cloth. "Ansell said something about their mother being his father's favorite mistress?"

"The Duke is an admirer of very young, very beautiful women." The Englishwoman explained, fussing over a table. "Their mother is a noblesse, she was with the Duke until he tired of her right before the curse. The Duchess, bless her, was well aware of the maîtresse-en-titre, and she tolerated it because it meant she didn't have to see him too often." Mrs. Potts sighed. "Their marriage was wholly political, and this castle was her sanctuary. She hired us all on personally not six months before she had the prince." Her voice was fond, bittersweet, dwelling on the golden days of the past. The memories turning cold, she drew a deep breath. "As those boys aged the Duke pulled strings to have Leon become a viscount but had to keep Francis as a bâtard. Last I heard Francis was set to marry some Austrian. Leon's been married for years but his wife and children are the last subjects he'd ever care to talk about." She explained. "And honestly there's probably at least a dozen more children by the Duke floating around. He was never faithful to the Noblesse or the Duchess. Not that that's frowned upon."

"Ansell's childhood sounds… complicated." Belle said tactfully. No wonder Mrs. Potts had said he had been twisted up. It sounded like he had been set up for failure from the start. Unless his mother had lived, he was always going to be a conceited, greedy, philandering ass.

"He was raised with his brothers. They're real prizes, always have been what with their father playing favorites." She looked up at Belle, signaling the others to leave and shut the doors.

Belle slowed her washing as the door clicked shut, turning to the older woman.

"I wanted to ask some things a bit more delicate. Possibly out of turn, and I apologize but I worry about you two, so new to each other." Mrs. Potts dropped into hushed tones. "Are you concerned about the Master pursuing other women while at court? Do you feel bad about that prospect?"

"Honestly, I don't know how I feel about that." She sighed, wiping a window dry. "I know it's encouraged, and I know before the curse he was quite the heartbreaker. But he professes I'm the only one for him now. At the same time, I'm not dense." Her face was strained as she wrung the cloth out of nerves. "I'm very aware there's not much variety between here and the village."

Mrs. Potts watched the young woman, ever practical. "Come on, let's take a break." She said, finding a chair.

Belle followed suit. "Mrs. Potts, I really, truly don't know. I wish he wouldn't, but I'm familiar with what the expectations and temptations are at court." She looked down at her hands, wet with small trails of soap bubbles clinging to her skin. "If he does, I'll find out whether he wants me to or not. He's the worst liar I've ever met."

The housemaid chuckled. "He's never had to lie. Bein' the prince, he's always been able to say what he wants and what's on his mind. When he was a loveless thing, it was terrible."

"It's rather endearing when he does try to." She smiled absently, drawn away from the heavy conversation for just a moment. "He's currently keeping a secret and it's absolutely torturous for him."

"He's such a big sweet thing with you." Mrs. Potts noted.

"But he needs to be that way even when I'm _not_ around." she looked up towards the west wing.

"Since we're on this rather... delicate subject." She began carefully, noting the caution in the brown eyes staring back at her. "You and the master have been very passionate since... well... since not too longer after the curse broke. _Very_ intimately passionate." She watched Belle began to look as if she had eaten a bad batch of seafood.

"Oh, Mrs. Potts' please-" Belle winced.

"Dearie, you two haven't been able to keep your-"

There was a knock at the door and the Madame peered in. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, no, not at all," Belle nearly leaped at the opportunity to escape the conversation. "We were just..." She shrugged her shoulders as she pushed herself out of the chair. "Talking about... things we're no longer talking about. I suspect you're looking for me?"

Mrs. Potts covered her eyes with a palm as Belle escaped.

* * *

Madame De Gardenrobe opened up the doors to Belle's old bedroom. It had been awhile since she had actually slept in the room but had been used as a storage of sorts. Dresses she didn't wear every day, jewelry from the Duchess's collection she used from the to time, and other parts of her life that didn't fit so neatly into the small space she preferred her things to occupy in the west wing.

Her eyes widened at the selection of dresses on the bed. All different colors, weights, and varieties suited for various formal occasions.

Plumette came over, smiling. "We ordered quite a few things for you when we thought you would be with us every day."

"For balls, for teas, riding, portraits, garden parties, formal, evening formal, semi-formal, casual, _village_ casual, everything taken into consideration." The Madame recited breathlessly. "Your preferences of course." It had been so hard to find ball gowns without corsets, but it had been well established that their Belle could not stand anything so constricting. Nor shoes too high. The girl could be dancing one minute and horseback riding the next, it was something they as staff trained to take care of nobility were still getting used to. "We had your measurements on hand so it should all fit perfectly. And anything you wish to take home is yours of course."

"And I can assist with any fittings." The lady's maid nodded.

Belle approached the dresses, immediately gravitating to those that were of the same design as what she preferred to wear every day. Simple, practical, sturdy, a splash of color and patterns. Running her fingers over the fabric of a green one, she studied how the skirt didn't have pockets and immediately planned to alter it. Smiling in amusement that there were several types of bloomers and stockings for summer and winter as well as an assortment of matching ribbons for her hair and rough, sturdy boots and a slightly nicer pair for when she wasn't running around the woods. Her smile widened as her fingers ran across the cotton weave of a new apron.

"I might have made that special." Plumette winked.

"Thank you, mine is getting a bit tattered at the edges." worrying at an apron string, she smiled. "All of this is perfect, you two. Thank you so much, this took a lot of consideration. I know I'm not the easiest to dress."

"We just want you to be comfortable." the Madame smiled, pleased their Belle was happy with the wardrobe. "But the master told me you needed to choose something for tonight."

Belle arched a pensive brow. "Did he now?"

The Madame laughed at the girl's suspicions. She could see the clever mind working overtime, trying to piece together what was planned. "He said to wear something warm. Stockings and boots, nice enough for an outing but not too formal."

"That prince." She rolled her eyes, walking over to dresses of more heavier fabrics. "Alright, I suppose these then."

"COGSWORTH I WILL NOT-" He boomed from the other side of the castle.

Letting go of the dress, Belle scowled, looking to the Madame. "How long has be been screaming?" She asked curtly, not trying to be short with her unable to keep her frustrations in check.

"He lasted several days." Gardenrobe put delicately. "It was rather valiant."

She heard another petulant roar and pursed her lips, weighing her options before fearlessly storming out. "I'll be back, I promise."

* * *

"Master

"Master-"

"Cogsworth I swear if you try to get me to wear those awful rings-"

"Fine, fine. No jewelry."

Belle cautiously walked through the door and into the royal chambers. She found him standing on a small platform, a garishly dressed tailor pushing and pinning him, constantly correcting a sullen slouch. Draped in bright silks and embroidery far more lurid than what he wore for the celebration, she watched him sympathetically. The royal suits she loved to see him in were downright tame compared to what was the desired, constricting fashion of Versailles. Nearby was a Parisian woman holding and gingerly brushing a tall, white wig cascading in curls, cooing over how much new makeup had arrived to powder his face with.

"This is awful." Ansell spat. Childish, scowling.

"Sir, this is what the French Court expects." Cogsworth huffed, fiddling anxiously with the handle of this cane. He hated having to deal with the prince when he was so testy, it rarely ended well.

"This feels too tight." He told the tailor as if he still had fangs.

"Prince Anselme, this is what's en vogue." Finding it harder and harder to work with the young man's temper, the tailor paused for a moment to let the young man breathe.

Shifting his weight Chapeau adjusted his cuffs. Wisely, he kept quiet, well aware Cogsworth was prone to riling the prince up, and if he allowed it to happen he could step in and work on calming him down.

Belle eyed the shoes resting nearby, glittering gold and with too high a heel for him to manage. She clung to the wall, watching Ansell carefully.

"Well, it feels too tight. I look like a parrot." Pawing at the cravat to loosen it, Ansell bared his teeth in a way that reminded her of his hairier days. "Like an exceptionally stupid parrot."

"My Prince, the fur cape will bring it all together." The woman with the wig sung cheerily. "You will look so grand for the portrait your father has commissioned."

"Ugh." He stretched his shoulders, looking like he would rather be at the business end of a musket.

"You're rather fearless, Ma Cherie." Lumiere whispered as he slid in and clung to the wall with her near some tapestries.

"His growling didn't scare me when he was seven feet tall and it certainly doesn't scare me now." She whispered back.

"There are days when I think he misses having a tail to lash back and forth like an angry cat."

Belle couldn't help but giggle.

Hearing the familiar sound, Ansell's head perked up and he scanned the room. As soon as the blue eyes stopping on a familiar dress everyone could see an immediate change in him. A relaxing of his muscles, a more slow breath, the lines of agitation beginning to slowly slacken from his face.

She had been found. "You know, I seem to recall you loving all of this." She mused, walking over, observing his transformation. "I heard you were quite the popular peacock."

"It's different now." He grumbled. "This is all- it's just not what I've grown accustomed to."

"Barefoot and shirtless in a cape?" She quirked a brow. Unamused at his brooding.

"I'm sorry it wasn't high fashion but it was practical, thank you very much."

"Mon dieu." The majordomo was at a loss. This bullheaded, ruffian of a prince. He didn't know what to do with him.

"And these shoes." Ansell sneered with a curling lip. "They're dreadful. I can't feel anything and I keep tripping."

"You did fine at the celebration" she folded her arms, watching him. "And you looked quite dashing."

"We practiced for a week to get me used to those damn things." He lamented. "Everyone takes shoes for granted! They're hard when you haven't worn them for ages." Letting out a huff, he swatted at a hand trying to adjust the fitting of a shoulder. "And I don't mind dressing up for you." Shooing the tailor away in frustration he hopped down and padded over to Belle. "LEAVE." The prince meanly ordered his father's staff. As soon as the door shut with a click he stepped down. Eyes softer, more patient. He tilted his chin down, suddenly looking much sweeter and boyishly unsure. The Ansell she had just spent the morning with had returned. "I like the way you look at me."

"You're handsome no matter what you wear." She ran a hand up his chest, toying with golden buttons. He moved in for a kiss, hands ready to take her. She stepped back, pushing his chest away, knocking the big hands away from her waist. "But you need to stop it right now."

Ansell's face dropped in shock. He furrowed his brows, opened his mouth, closed it, and looked utterly unsure of what he had done to get such a smack on the nose.

"Just because you're miserable doesn't mean you get to abuse your staff-"

"I'm not abusive." He recoiled ever so slightly to the accusation, wounded by her words.

"Screaming at Cogsworth or anyone else on staff is absolutely abusive," she said firmly. "Don't you dare get back into your bad habits."

"I'm trying!" Ansell barked.

"Try harder!" Belle matched his volume. "Control your temper and don't take it out on everyone!"

He tilted his chin down guiltily yet still looked righteously stubborn.

"This is not the man I love." She warned. "He gets frustrated but he doesn't hurt his family. And he's impatient but he tries to work through his issues."

"I don't have anyone to work them through with." He hedged.

"Ansell, that's a lie."

"NO IT'S NOT!" His chest heaved, fear in his eyes. "You're not here! You haven't been here!"

"I won't always be here! Or there! Or always a horse ride away!" She gestured to the door. Was this what they were sending away? This ball of nerves and insecurity, worn down after just over a week of seeing his family? "You have Lumiere, and Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth and so many people in this home who can help and want to help you just as well as I can if not better!"

Stewing, he turned away, snorting air out through his nose like an angry bull.

Lumiere, Chapeau, and Cogsworth exchanged tense glances.

"Ansell, it doesn't always have to be me. And I don't want you to slip away." Fear and anger twisted her stomach in knots. Belle loved him the world over, however, as he stood before her she couldn't see Ansell being gone for a month and returning to her intact. "But you can't just explode at every little turn because I'm not here and it suits your fraying nerves!"

"Belle, I don't want to do this!" He snapped.

"I don't want to do a lot of things but did you see me yelling because your awful family being here meant I had to leave?!"

"It's not the same! That was JUST a week!"

"Don't you dare-"

"A month! You all expect me to be away for a month! To play this part I'm not!" He roared desperately. "He put me through all these damned classes like he was taking me into a show ring! Like some, some STALLION he's looking to trot out to BREED to the highest dowry! Do you know how that FEELS?" Snarling, circling around a table he slammed his fist down. "EVERYONE KEEPS TRYING TO CONTROL AND CORRECT ME. WHAT TO DO, WHAT TO SAY, WHEN TO BOW, WHAT TO WEAR-"

"Yelling doesn't give you any control!"

"IT DOES WHEN YOU'RE THE PRINCE AND THEY'RE ALL BENEATH YOU!" Whirling around to face her he stopped, realizing what he had said.

Belle paused, tilting her head shrewdly. "Oh, so that's how you've gotten away with this for so long?!" She stepped toward him, her face severe. "Well, it certainly doesn't give you any control over me!"

Ansell's face slackened. "Belle-"

"I don't care if you have some grand surprise for tonight and I don't care if you're expecting I warm your bed afterward just because you're _my prince!_ " She threatened.

Cogsworth's face turned bright red as Chapeau came over and handed him a fresh handkerchief.

"Just because I was happy to see you last night and happy to wake up to you this morning doesn't mean I won't leave you _right_ at this moment. Or any other time you decided your royal blood gives you carte blanche to be an impetuous terror." Face hot with anger, Belle stood unflinchingly right in front of him. "I wouldn't stand for it when you had claws and I certainly won't give you a pass now."

Turning his head, he shamefully didn't want to make eye contact with her. "I apologize, I misspoke."

"You spoke your truth, Ansell. And this is mine." She pressed firmly. "I'm sorry you're feeling like everyone's trying to control you, but I won't put up with you becoming abusive again."

He looked down at his stocking clad feet, his eyes flitted up guiltily.

"Dearest, I love you, and I don't expect you to be perfect." She came closer, reaching out and cupping his jaw with her palm. "I'm so sorry you feel like you're being controlled. But don't you dare hurt your family because you feel like you don't have a way of escape. Don't you ever hurt them."

Ansell leaned into her palm, his eyes pained as his hand reached up and covered her own. "I'm so sorry, Belle. I never meant to take so many steps back. Really I can't even begin-"

She looked at him pointedly.

Turning, letting go of her he went to his staff. "Cogsworth, I apologize for being so angry with you these last few days." He said sincerely. "I know you only have what's in my best interests at heart, and I have fought you tooth and claw the entire way."

"Sir, you never have to apologize to me-"

"Of course I do." He insisted, swallowing thickly. Genuinely apologetic. "You are my family, and I've treated you all so terribly." Turning, he looked to Lumiere who opened his arms up. Grabbing the man, he hugged him tightly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's been a difficult week, Master." He reassured. "But I'm glad you're learning your mistakes."

"Chapeau," he went over to his tall beanpole of a sentinel. "I know how much it upsets you when you can't tend to your duties properly, and I've been terrible and keeping you from them." He gripped the man's shoulders, looking him in the eye. "I'm sorry for that. But when I'm at Versailles you'll be indispensable as my valet. I'll need you more than ever to keep me up to snuff."

"It will be my pleasure, Your Highness." He said curtly. Giving a slight smile, he gestured back over to Belle.

Turning around sheepishly, Ansell looked back to her. Arms folded, face neutral, eyebrow slightly up. No smile for him.

"Well, that's a start." She finally responded.

Padding over to her, he held a hand out. "I'm sorry I yelled at you too."

"I can yell right back," Belle reassured as he came closer. "I know it's not your strong suit but exercise some patience, some restraint." Rubbing his jaw gently, she pulled him down for a kiss. "We can work on it before you leave. We can work on all of it."

"There's only two days left." Resting his hands on her waist, his voice was deep with doubt. "I think you of all people know that's asking for a miracle."

"We'll see what we can do." Her voice full of tenacious confidence. "There's a houseful of people to whip you into shape. And not the shape your father wants." Taking one of his hands, she kissed the knuckles.

"You're not going to tell me to be good?" Thumbs played with the fabric of her skirt, a bit of the sparkle returning in his eyes.

Cogsworth heaved, rolling his eyes.

"Now that's asking for a miracle." Belle teased, watching his face drop in reaction. "But I'm serious Ansell, you need to learn control. And that means even when I'm not around. _Especially_ , when I'm not around."

"Yes, you're right."

"This won't work if I'm the only constant that calms you down and has to rush in to soothe you for every little agitation. I won't be that device for you." She warned. "Now I love you, but you clearly need a little more work, Ansell."

"You're right, it's not fair on you to have to constantly talk me off the ledge." He grumbled, finding it hard to admit such things.

"It's not healthy." She responded.

Nodding his head, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth."I much rather prefer the only fighting we do be over the opinions of books and plays."

"Only because you have such terrible opinions." Her voice was firm, but ended in comfortable rhythm they were so good at slipping back into. Even after such a row, they could find their way back to it.

Ansell chuckled, glad she was looking so mischievous. "Whatever are you going to do while I'm gone?" He asked. "Who are you going to pester?"

"I don't have a clue." A sigh, slightly dramatic. Eyes twinkling playfully, oh how they loved to tease one another. "Who else am I going to get to argue with me over books?"

A bright chuckle cut through all of the dreariness. "Cogsworth, your new job is to argue with Belle over books." He ordered.

"Sir!" The majordomo blustered under his mustache. "Master of all the things I need to do-"

"You're terrible." Belle laughed, smoothing her hand over his silk waistcoat. "Don't listen to him, Cogsworth. He's being a brat."

"He won't argue with you but I suspect Chip would be a gamely reading partner." He suggested gently. "Although he's more interested in fairy tales. Romances are apparently "very gross"."

"Opinions on some genres aside he does have good taste." She mused. Pausing, allowing for a thoughtful silence. "You know, Chapeau is your valet but perhaps Lumiere should come with you too. It might help having another familiar face. And someone for poor Chapeau to turn to when you start growling."

Chapeau shifted his stance, fixing his cravat.

"You're probably right." He breathed.

"He loves the finer things." She pointed out. Well aware Lumiere was behind her and on board with getting to tag along to Versailles.

"Quit making so much sense."

"Oh, that's never going to happen." She looked over at her friends. "Lumiere?"

"It would be my honor." He gave a short bow, glad there was someone in the house to yell back at the prince.

"I'm so sorry, Darling," Ansell whispered, nuzzling her ever so slightly before pressing the most sincere and apologetic kisses to her lips.

"Let's not do this again," Belle replied, her fingers petting his shoulder.

"Does this mean I get to give you your surprise still?" Ansell asked hopefully.

Belle narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at him. "We'll see how well you do at class."

He looked at her worriedly.


	10. Chapter 10

"Student of the day." Cogsworth beamed, his hands resting on Belle's shoulders as she sat at the table with a stack of books on one side and a stack of notes on the other.

Ansell stared at her from across the dark, heavy wood table top. A touch of soreness edging into his eyes as he drummed his quill tip on the desk.

She smiled broadly to the praise, still jotting down some notes with her quill. She had flourished in study; engaging in thoughtful conversation, asking clever questions, forming opinions. A joy to teach and a light that had absolutely outshone the person who was actually supposed to be learning for a purpose.

"Exemplary!" Patting her shoulders he went back to his blackboard. Pleased as punch he at least had one good pupil. "And so impressive, seeing as you've never been able to take a class yourself."

"I like to think I'm a very quick learner." She told the majordomo. Eyes smugly flitting to Ansell. Slouching and brooding like the recalcitrant schoolboy of his youth.

The prince idly ripped the corner of a piece of parchment, failing at appearing to be not affected by being surpassed.

"Well, hopefully, your studiousness will rub off on those less inclined to focus." He grumbled with all the severity of a disappointed walrus. "You two are dismissed."

Ansell rose up from the table, sharply straightening his jacket.

Belle chuckled. "Don't be so sore." Taking the books to another table she began to sort them out so she could begin the next lesson prepared. "You were daydreaming at one point."

"All that stuff about the church is soooo boring." The sharp blue eyes rolled, noticing how well written her notes were. A touch hasty with some ink spatterings, but perfectly bulleted with questions and additional musings in between the lines. Looking over to his, they were barely scratched in, sometimes just a word and a question mark, with bored doodles in the margins. He snorted like a peeved bull.

"Cogsworth?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle?" He sniffed, nose twitching threateningly as he wiped down the blackboard.

"How did the prince do today compared to his other lessons?" She asked wryly.

Ansell froze as if his life suddenly depended on the grade.

Cogsworth fussed over the blackboard, cleaning it in slow, precise circles. "Compared to the past nine days I'd say the Master was a regular Socrates."

Belle started laughing. At first, she covered her mouth, but as she shook her head she had to put a hand on a table.

"What?" Ansell huffed.

"Oh, you had to have been a miserable piece of work for the last week." She giggled.

"He was dreadful." Cogsworth supplied, which made her laugh even longer.

Finally catching her breath, she mustered out. "But you get to reveal your surprise, _Prince Anselme_."

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Doesn't mean you're off the hook." She warned. "But you should probably go up and see long suffering Chapeau. I was told there's a dress code?"

With a wide, eager smile he headed out.

Belle waited until the door shut before turning keenly to Cogsworth. "I need you to get everyone in the library in ten minutes."

Cogsworth tilted his head.

"We need the full calvary." She told him, wiping the pen ink off her fingers and onto one of her towels.

He bowed with a smile. "As you wish, Mademoiselle."

With a knowing little smirk toying on the corners of her mouth, she headed out whilst rolling her eyes. "Socrates."

* * *

"I've been told I need to go be dressed so this will be shorter than I'd like," Belle told the group. The servants closest to Ansell, those who raised and saw to him as the beast. Everyone who could had gathered in the library, fanning attentively around the farm girl. "But Ansell can't go in two days, he'll never make it out alive."

"I don't think that's possible," Cogsworth said skeptically, leaning stiffly on his cane. "The Duke's men run a tight ship, heavens knows they've been making our lives difficult. Some days I wish I were still a clock! I didn't get as nearly as tired back then,"

"If he goes to Versailles now he'll fall to pieces," Belle told them all soberly. "Whether that was intentional or his father just doesn't know how or what to teach him, he won't make it a month. And I mean that with all the love in the world for Ansell. We can get him in better shape in a few days, but it's going to take everyone correcting him." Circling the room she looked down at the floor. "I can't help but feel like having the summer all to ourselves spoiled him."

"Belle, you pushed the Master." Mrs. Potts reminded. "You corrected him during the two months, I saw it."

Shaking her head, the brown eyes flitted up. "I let some things slip. I mistook his childishness for playfulness far too many times."

"But Belle," Cogsworth lamented "There's not enough time in the days we have left."

"We can come up with a diversion." Mr. Potts piped in cleverly, rubbing his chin. "Buy a few days. Perhaps the horses are colicky, unfit for a long journey?" He suggested with a smirk as Mrs. Potts patted his arm. "Treatment might take awhile, a shame."

"He's still woefully undereducated on his current events." The majordomo huffed, his chest puffed out like a perturbed rooster.

"I think he needs someone to learn with him, or else he's distracted." She corrected sympathetically. "Between you and I, I think we can get him at least read enough to navigate a conversation."

"The master has no desire to get caught up on the arts." Cadenza hinted pointedly, becoming more and more agitated. "The dances and the music have all changed at Versailles, they change every season! He will walk in and not know what is en vogue and it will BE A DISASTER!" He threw his hands up.

"Maestro!" The Madame soothed. "My Darling, you mustn't get so worked up."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be passionate but it concerns me!" He lamented, riling himself up again. "All summer you and I, My Pet, we worked so hard to learn everything that came and went while we were locked away here. The arias! The compositions! The operas! Dancing! And instead of learning all this fantastic culture what does our prince do?! He'd rather go run off to a meadow to frolick! A MEA-"

Belle gave a guilty smile, her fingers worrying the hem of her apron.

The maestro's wife looked at him scornfully as he realized what exactly he was saying.

His shoulders slumped, his dentures flashed a tight smile. "No offense to those who took him to meadows."

"None taken." Belle rolled her lips into her mouth, clearing her throat to continue. "We were… very distracted these last few months." She ignored Lumiere and Plumette chuckling knowingly as Cadenza settled himself down. "We certainly should have made time for other things. And you're right. If he doesn't know what is popular at court, then you and the Madame will give him lessons." She told them. "Which will give me a break from watching his every move and slowly… sinking… into madness." Grimacing, she loved him, she truly did. But if she had to nitpick him for a week Belle would probably end up strangling him. Or leaving. Or both.

"He needs to relearn his fencing," Lumiere noted. "Seems he's forgotten all I've taught him. That fight with his brother? So sloppy, I should be ashamed."

Belle looked at her friend curiously.

"I wasn't born into a life of service, Ma Cherie." He winked mischievously.

"Needs to improve his horseback riding." Mr. Potts added. "He rides like a bloody farmer, not that there's anything wrong with that particular style-" He nodded to Belle "but he needs to ride like a prince. Noble."

"I'll see if I can get him to improve with his utensils." His wife sighed. "That lout dropped half a dozen forks at the celebration, don't think I didn't notice. And his cups, you'd think years of living with a talking one would keep him from being all thumbs."

"His handwriting," Plumette shook her head. "it's like he still has a paw. I'll take that. Chapeau will groom him, that is easy as the master still likes to look nice."

"Current events, the arts, fencing, riding… hand eye coordination-" Belle counted off. "Penmanship, grooming. I think this is a good list. Lumiere, I suggested you for Versailles so he has someone else to watch over him."

"I thought so." He nodded. "I shall be his eyes and ears and one of his pieces of home."

"Thank you," Belle said sincerely. "I know Chapeau's not here but if someone could fill him in-"

"I can." Mrs. Potts told her. "He'll take his dinner after he dresses the master."

"Perfect. I know this isn't everything, but I think this is a manageable list," Belle said, looking around the room. "I know he's upset at being told what to do, being bosses around, but I'll explain the plan to him tonight. Now, if his temper flairs, please correct him. If he throws around his title, call him out. And if he worsens _I'll_ see to him myself."

Mrs. Pots chuckled, her brows raised in amusement at their ferocious general. "Oh, you don't worry about that one, Dearie. I certainly don't mind watching you straighten him out."

"Here here." Cogsworth rapped his cane in approval.

She smiled at the group surrounding her. "We do have our work cut out for us. But I know we can help him improve before he leaves."

"And you must get dressed, my Dear." The Madame said, going and ushering her out the door, Plumette trailing closely behind. "You have a date with a very handsome prince."

* * *

"I hope this works, Chapeau."

"Of course it will, Sire," Chapeau said, happily filing his nails. The prince had not readapted to formal dress since the curse had broken, and for Chapeau, the lack of polish had been driving him mad. He had delighted in the celebration and was more than happy there was another excuse to give his charge another once over.

"She was sooo, angry." Ansell grumbled but sounded more guilty than upset at Belle. "I mean, she has every right to be. I should really be… not… terrible. You know."

"I know."

"And I'll work on that, truly I will. But tonight? This is a good surprise." He said optimistically, damp hair plastered against his face.

* * *

"I wonder what this surprise is." Belle mused, pulling on her dressing gown as she stepped out of the tub. Madame and Plumette were there to pamper her into a vision, something she was still getting used to but appreciated when she needed to be out of her everyday wear. "Do either of you know?"

"If we did, how could we tell you?" Plumette batted her lashes coyly. "It wouldn't be a surprise then."

Belle narrowed her eyes, taking a seat down so Plumette could do her hair. "I thought you were on my side."

* * *

"A very good one, knowing the Mademoiselle."

"Can I not wear a wig this time around?" The prince fidgeted, watching his valet work his magic in the mirror.

"I hadn't even considered one seeing as it is not the Mademoiselle's preference," Chapeau reassured. "But you deserately need a trim, Your Grace, and I have an idea for your hair." Chapeau looked the prince over, frowning thoughtfully.

"What is it?"

* * *

"Oh, we are." The Madame chuckled, carefully selecting the jewelry. Nothing too big or too heavy, Belle barely tolerated earrings much less a jewel encrusted broach the size of her fist. "But do you want the surprise to be ruined?"

"I just want to know what he's getting us into." Belle looked into the vanity, watching Plumette take a brush to her hair.

"Up?"

"I'm not sure?" The door creaked and Mrs. Potts came in with a tea service. "What do you suggest, Plumette?"

"Up, the collar on the dress is a little higher than what we normally work with."

"Than that, thank you." She saw the housemaid in the mirror. "Mrs. Potts-"

"Yes, Dearie?"

* * *

"You have three good suits that match the fashion that _aren't_ from your father's tailor. Who, in my opinion, is a bit over the top." The valet explained with a hint of disdain. He had after all been dressing the prince ever since he needed a valet and was attune to his styles, even as drastically as they had recently changed. "May I suggest we get some more in Paris when we make our trip to Versailles?" He watched Ansell's skepticism. "Nothing too gaudy, I assure you. But when you need to dress your part when in the province, wouldn't you like something besides the few you have?"

"I suppose." He nodded hesitantly. "I should probably also get some more work clothes, seeing as I'm spending more and more time in the village with Belle. I only have the one set." Ansell didn't see Chapeau's look of pain from the thought of him running around Villeneuve like a commoner. "Wait." He paused. "Three? I thought I only had the navy and the light blue."

* * *

"You wouldn't happen to know where Ansell is taking me, would you?"

Shaking her head Mrs. Potts laughed as she fixed a cup the way the girl preferred. "Love, you're terrible." Ignoring how stunned Belle was, she came over and set the saucer down on the vanity. "Oh, come off it. _You_ don't like not knowing things. Makes you a terrible person to surprise. And, an _absolute_ pest." Reaching over, she patted Belle's shoulder. The girl was sulking. "Now, now. Just trust the master. You don't have to wait too much longer now do you?"

"I suppose you're right." She sighed, though not quite defeated.

"There's a girl. Drink up." Mrs. Potts went over to the Madame and looked at what dress had been laid out. "Oh, won't you look stunning in this. He's going to think he died and went to heaven."

* * *

"I found one in storage, Your Grace. I took the liberty of having it altered and re-embroidered. It suits the current trend very well, but it's not as nearly as formal." He smiled to himself. "And you are going to debut it tonight for your Mademoiselle."

* * *

Belle entered the library looking around at the warm, dimmed light. The thick, heavy curtains drawn to keep out the sunlight, fire roaring, the leather of the books gleaming marvelously in the low light. Taking a deep breath she ventured further in, pulling at the shawl on her shoulders, raising a brow as she found Ansell by one of of the tables in a stunning hunters green suit. His golden hair half down, the sides plaited back out of his face, stately and handsome.

He took a deep, steadying breath. Rocking on his heels, he smiled at his lady in her veridian dress. Always bowled over by her radiance. "Is that one new?"

"There's quite a few new ones. It seems Madame and Plumette planned for every contingency." She took his outstretched hand, coming up and kissing Ansell. Her fingers wandering up and holding his face, pad of her thumb rubbing against the stubble of his jaw.

"I thought you would appreciate me keeping it." He said.

"It makes you look rakish." She smiled, noticing the flowers and beading curling up his coat. Creatures and blossoms of the forest wrapping around the stiff collar. "The braid is also handsome. Reminds me of our first dance."

His mouth twitched. Ansell had forgotten about his hair, rather fur, when they had danced so long ago. But oh, Chapeau, that clever man knew what to do. He would have to thank him. "Yes, well, Chapeau was very happy to get me out of the provincial and into the world. He was keen to add a little flair." He kissed her knuckles, eyes smiling at her. He loved the birds and cherry blossoms on her dress. Such Belle things; songs and summer. "You're the most stunning date a gentleman could ask for. Everyone's going to be jealous."

"Everyone?" She raised a brow curiously. "So there's people where this surprise is?"

"All kinds of people, and they get to see I'm with the most beautiful girl." Looking back over his shoulder, he gently guided her over. Unable to refrain from smiling in anticipation.

"So where are we going?" Belle asked suspiciously, enjoying his excitement. He always looked a little dopey when he was excited. "Obviously somewhere with a crowd."

"Don't ask for me to spoil it." He responded, hand gently resting on the small of her back. "There's no fun in that. But I promise you'll enjoy yourself."

His blue eyes were wide, sparkling, eager to take her away. She blushed as they stopped at the book. An arm wrapping around her, a hand pressing down into the page.

"Close your eyes, Darling." He whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. "And trust me."

* * *

"Alright, you can open them."

Belle opened her eyes to find herself on cobblestones, people bustling around them. Headed towards a large, round, white building. People purchasing tickets, filing in, men taking tickets. Looking up, the skyline was foreign, the architecture not French. But that round building. And the people were speaking English.

Ansell waited, the corner of his mouth threatening to break into a smile and give it all away. When her head jerked up and the big, brown eyes looked at him as wide as saucers, he grinned brightly.

"Oh my god… _Are we_?" She gasped.

He nodded his head.

"And we're going to?!"

Ansell laughed deeply, her excitement was so infectious. "Yes we are."

Belle covered her mouth, spinning around in the street, stifling a shriek of glee.

The silent exuberance carried on, and he watched her struggle so valiantly with keeping her expressions of pure unadulterated joy down to a polite minimum. It was obvious she so desperately wanted to kiss him in a way that was not suitable for public. "Sooo you like it?"

"Ansell, I'm going to cry." She laughed, wanting to yank him down to her height and throw her arms around him in the most passionate of kisses. "It's The Globe." Clutching her chest, Belle struggled to steady her breathing.

"It is." He beamed down at her.

"It's- It's- It's _his_ theatre." Belle squeaked, barely able to talk. "And we're going to see a play?"

"For the first time in my life, I made sure I had money so I could buy our tickets." The prince explained, basking in her joy, reading the banner. " _Titus Andronicus_ , not our favorite but, pretty good one to see, right?"

Pulling away, grinning so hard it was beginning to hurt, she shook her head in sheer disbelief. She had read about it, and dreamed about it. But never in a million years. "We're going to see a play at _The Globe_."

"I take it this was a good surprise then?" He wanted to cry at her happiness. The warmth, the pure joy on her face, it made his chest feel fit to burst and his face hot.

She ducked under his arm as he led her to the building, the two of them all grins. Belle still overwhelmed with it all. "Have I told you recently how much I love you?"

Ansell laughed, squeezing her palm. "I never mind hearing it again, Darling."

"Well I love you."


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: There are not one, but **two** new chapters. Don't miss out. Also, I've stated this a little further back but I'll say it again: every other chapter has been re-edited with some parts even rewritten. It's a leagues better story if you want to go back, but it's not imperative that you do. Just a more pleasant story experience._

* * *

"Why do you have this terrible thing on?"

"Because I'm not the one under the covers and it's chilly," Belle told him, pushing the hand away that was pawing at the sash on the house robe. Laying against a small mountain of pillows, one foot was planted on the bed, knee bent up, the other laying flat. Silk robe covering her breasts but cascading down and to the sides.

Ansell covered up the rest. He was laying between her legs, head on her flat belly, hands traveling between her arms and her thighs. Soft sheets and blankets bunched at his lower back, a foot sticking out at the end of the bed, gleaming golden hair tumbling into his strong face. Sated and lazy. Occasionally kissing the skin he was resting on, sleepily pleased with all of the contact. Their chambers were dark, the silver light of the moon peeking through the clouds and the tall orange flames of the fireplace allowing them to see each other.

"Hrm." He rumbled happily, eyes shutting as her fingers worked their way through his hair and massaged his scalp.

"You look like the cat after he's eaten a mouse and found a sunbeam." she mused.

"Well, I _was_ rather ravenous." He absently petted an arm, smiling as if he was drunk on too much wine. "After that wonderful play in London I had a large dinner, then a big serving of you, and this spot is so nice and warm and soft." Kissing her stomach the prince lifted his head to meet the soft brown eyes watching him so lovingly. "Are you uncomfortable?"

"I'm very comfortable," she said contentedly, still petting him. "I like you right there."

"Good, because you're such a lovely place to nap." He teased. Another kiss, fingers playing along her thigh, a sigh of words. "And I'm near so many of my favorite places."

"You know your way around them very well." she watched his wry grin of accomplishment. "Thank you, by the way, it's been perfect," Belle exclaimed tenderly. Still basking in the glow of Ansell's talents, he wasn't the only one tired. "I know today had its rough moments but I would never have thought of such an absolutely perfect outing."

"It's been my pleasure." smiling into her skin he purred the words out, thumb rolling soothing circles on her thigh. "I've been wanting to take you for weeks and was hoping to do it around Noel but…" His mouth pulled into a wistful frown. "With everything happening so quickly I wanted one great adventure with you before I left." There was a sad twinge in his voice as his trip felt too close. It was racing up on him, on them, and he couldn't fathom leaving her.

Reaching out, Belle ran a hand across Ansell's shoulders, working away the tension she knew was building up. "It's not as close as you think."

He lifted his head up, looking at her for an answer.

"I may have rallied the staff into working on teaching you for the next few days while Mr. Potts tells your father's men the horses are sick." She divulged, watching him go through a range of emotions. Relief for the delay, reluctance towards the idea of education, and befuddlement as to the exact nature of the classes. "Dearest, you need more help before you're ready to leave."

"You're right." The prince heaved, slumping against her. "I'm lousy at so many things." Frowning against her skin, cheek smooshed against her torso, his brows furrowed in frustration. "Things I used to excel at, I'm just... terrible."

"It's been years. Things are bound to be rusty." Belle soothed, smiling down at him so possessively draped over her. She didn't know if it was the years spent in cursed solitude or just his personality, however, the prince thrived and sought out physical contact. It was never forceful or unwanted, he was quick to stop when she wasn't in the mood, and unless she initiated rough play it was always so very gentle. "Clearly not _everything_ is rusty." She reminded suggestively, listening to him let out a low, husky chuckle. Cheered up, he nipped the spot above her hip. "But we'll work on everything else."

"We should probably leave for good after winter passes." Ansell mused, kissing her palm, running his teeth across the skin.

"Hmm." She closed her eyes as his hands wandered and his mouth was very attentively working on her fingers. "And why's that?"

"Even if we use the book, we'll have a better chance of settling somewhere if we're not battling the elements." He pondered, kissing her thumb. "Plus, I need some time to un-prince myself. Learn to be a proper commoner."

"You're well on your way." She reassured. "But having one last winter at home would be nice. We should celebrate Noel with the staff seeing it's the first one since the curse has a been broken." Smiling at the thought she pondered. "Lumiere will want a lavish party, and then there are the children... They haven't had gifts in years..."

"Noel?"

"You weren't so jolly when we had eternal winter." Belle reminded him. "I don't even know if you kept track of the months."

"No, after awhile it all bled together." The prince sighed, shutting his eyes. "Did you know when it was last year?"

She nodded, not particularly wanting to dwell on the past. However, it was their past. "It just came and went."

"You never said anything." Setting his chin on her stomach he watched her shrug. "I thought it was your favorite holiday?"

"It is, but we weren't always on the best of terms." Belle reminded him, remembering the spats they had gotten into following their mutual rescuing in the forest. Even after he had been sweet enough to give her the library and they began to bond, it had been a rough adjustment. They both had tempers, Belle still felt like a captive, and as small as she was she hadn't been afraid to stand her ground against an enormous, stubborn, snarling beast. "Even after you saved me we were still working things out. And if I remember correctly December had us both particularly testy."

"Ah yes, your cabin fever was setting in." He sighed.

"You were also not the greatest help." Belle hinted.

"That's very true. At least we got to celebrate your birthday. Which, is coming up again." Ansell hinted. "I should be back for it, anything I should know?"

"That I just want you back for it." She said quietly, earnestly.

"Hmn." Taking her hand, he kissed her knuckles. "As you wish, Darling. But no gifts?"

"I've been too busy thinking about us to bother with gifts." She wanted him for her birthday. She desperately wanted to disappear with him, to not be under the threat of some horrid Duke and French Court. They would have to be patient, they weren't ready by any means, but Belle wanted it.

"I'll see what I can come up with. I think you deserve a bit of spoiling." the prince purred. "Especially for putting up with and agreeing to run away with me." Pausing innocently, he lifted his head from its spot with a twinge of worry.

She furrowed her brows. "What's wrong?"

His eyes fell to the flat belly he had been giving so much attention. "What if we conceive?" a worried whisper, a sincere concern.

"Oh, we're having _that_ talk." Belle took a deep breath.

"Belle, I love every inch of you." taking a hand, he stroked the spot. "I think it's obvious at this point. But, we could be increasing our chances of a complication with an escape."

"Ansell."

He looked up at her, brimming with fear. His heart pained thought of his father hurting her because of a potential heir.

She rested a hand on his head, stroking backward, pushing the hair out of the concerned eyes that were so shockingly blue in the moonlight, holding the back of his head. He was so sweet in his concern. "I read quite a few books on health and herbs when we started sharing a bed. I may have found a few ways to keep from adding on to our little family."

"Oh." He was suddenly much more relieved. Back to looking rosy. Ansell started chuckling to himself.

"What?"

"Just thinking about how you started doing your research a week after the curse was broken." He mused, watching her roll her eyes. Reaching under his arm, she pulled, and he obliged by scooting up to her shoulder.

"It takes two, Your Highness." she reminded him pointedly. "I seem to recall you being rather eager and willing."

"Surprised we lasted so long." The prince smiled mischievously as she kissed him deeply. Once she was done, she guided his head to her shoulder, and he contently buried his nose into her sweet smelling neck. Rosewater. "I lost a perfectly good pair of breeches in the process." he kissed, carefully keeping his weight on a knee and an elbow, but enjoying being draped over her.

"They were in the way." She reminded, biting her lip in memory. After the curse had ended, their first days in the castle had been torturous. Her beast; sweet, kind, and containing enough wits to match her, was suddenly incredibly handsome. The perfect combination of both looks and personality. And Ansell suddenly found himself in a body where he was comfortable with trying to simply touch her without the fear of scaring her away. They never had a chance in hell when it came to remaining chaste. "And the same could be said about my poor dress."

"Too many stays up the back." He scoffed, head under her chin. He slowly began to untie the blasted robe. "But we're… Safe?"

"As we can be." she pulled the blankets up further to ward off the chill.

"Have ever told you I'm glad you're the smart one?"

"I can always stand to hear it again." She smiled "Trust me if I hadn't done anything I suspect it wouldn't have taken you very long to get us in that situation." There was a twinge of guilt as she felt him nuzzle. "I hope you don't mind I didn't ask. I just don't want children right now." The fire crackled and popped, making the dim light of the flames dance over her face. "But I do want you."

"I'm not ready either." He sighed. "I didn't have the best role models."

"You'll be a wonderful father. And I have all the faith in the world that when the time comes and we want to conceive, you'll perform that particular job admirably." she joked.

He chuckled but then paused. "Family?"

"You don't think we're a family?" She asked carefully, winding a finger through his hair.

"I never thought of it that way." He mused. "But we are, aren't we?"

"I like to think so. And I want a few more grand adventures with you before we expand this family." She admitted softly, idly playing with his hair.

"Me too." He caressed her thigh gently as he shifted his weight. "Well, that, and I just don't want to share you with anyone for a while." Smiling wolfishly, laughing hungrily he kissed her passionately before pushing himself onto his arms. Between Belle's knees, he grabbed her under a leg and pulled her closer to his hips.

Belle laughed through his kiss, throwing her arms around his neck. Feeling hot and breathless. "I thought you were tired."

"What can I say? All of this talk about making babies has reinvigorated me." he kissed, pulling off her robe.


	12. Chapter 12

"Drop your elbow, Master. No, not so close to you."

Belle clung to the doorway of the fencing hall, finding Lumiere swiftly moving around the prince, soundly trouncing him with a foil. Ansell appeared slow and lumbering compared to the bright and agile older man.

Lumiere turned, giving her a half bow. "Mademoiselle, are you here to collect our pupil?"

"You still have time to fence circles around him." She reassured, folding her arms and leaning against the doorway.

"You know, Ma Cherie, you should take lessons with us sometime, I remember seeing you with a sword, you were quite fearless." He wagged his brows.

"I'd really love to try, actually." Belle watched Ansell suddenly become very hesitant, suspicious even. "What's wrong, my prince?"

"Lumiere, I think it should just be the two of us." He exclaimed pointedly.

"Are you afraid I'm going to do better than you?" She tilted her head playfully to the side.

"No." Ansell snorted unconvincingly.

Lumiere chuckled.

"Lumiere, we have a month to ourselves, I'd love some _private_ lessons." Belle hinted, watching how Ansell wasn't quite sure about how he felt about it all. For all his playfulness and sweetness, his ego could bruise easily at the most particular things.

"But of course." He bowed once more with far more flourish than before, turning back to his student. "Now come, Master. En garde!"

She watched them for a minute, swearing that he was improving.

"I don't know if I like being watched so closely," Ansell grunted, clearly sore he was having a day of being bested.

"Come now Your Grace, you're hacking away with that poor thing, don't be distracted."

"If you can't stand me watching, however will you last in a palace of busybodies?" She called out teasingly.

"You're not making any of this easier, you know." He told her peevishly. Sounding more like her grumbling beast than her Ansell.

"I'm motivation for improvement."

"Not when you're mocking me like that." he frowned, looking ready to growl impatiently. "It's just teasing!"

"Do you need a prize?" She suggested playfully, telling herself she wasn't going to let him get away with stewing and brooding over his poor fencing form.

Dropping his hand, Lumiere stopped to watch the two. Ansell's mood lightening at the idea of some sort of reward. "Are you suggesting one?"

Belle squinted thoughtfully. Ansell had a lopsided smile starting on his face, the one that often appeared when he was musing over the prospect of something involving the two of them. It always made him look a little dopey, and she found it so very cute. "If you do well in fencing, _and_ in class _and_ keep from being angry about the day? Let's go back to the house after." She said the final words suggestively before walking off. Knowing that Ansell, despite his lamenting over the bed, found the privacy of the house to themselves a respite from the barrage of royal duties.

Ansell was still staring at the door when he felt a sharp jab in his stomach.

Lumiere waved his foil. "She said do _well._ "

The prince huffed, taking his stance once more.

"En garde!"

* * *

"What are you reading?"

Ansell glanced up from his book, checking the cover. "A book on herbs and remedies." He explained, sitting on the floor next to the large metal washtub he had dragged next to the fire. Belle was in it, the milky white water with lazily clustered suds up to her collarbone, her knees small islands on the other side. She looked remarkably relaxed, yet still quirked a brow at his answer.

"That's a new one." Intrigued Belle turned, pulling herself away from her bath and studying his book. The house had been a well-needed break for both of them. As much as she loved the castle, she felt there was a lack of silence and slower pace. Beyond the safety of the library's quiet, there was always something that needed tending to, reading, cooking, scrubbing, folding. People constantly moving about to keep the castle in a state of royal perfection. And while Belle herself was rather active, curling up and relaxing into her book-induced introversion was always welcome. "What has you reading about botany? That's a little bit heavier than the Lady of the Lake."

"I kept thinking about what you said a few nights ago," He began thoughtfully "about the medicinal uses of certain plants to keep us out of the family way-"

"I thought we agreed-"

"We still do." He reassured. "I just thought about how readily all of this is available to the province. We're in the woods, a lot of it grows naturally." The prince explained astutely, skimming the page he had just read. "I find it fascinating things can be harvested in the wild so close to civilization and used to help heal the body or prevent… particular situations."

"It's not just the herbs, you know." She told him, watching the prince look up. "There are mushrooms and roots for cooking out in the woods too. I'm not familiar with any of them seeing as we don't cook. There's also patches of wild raspberries all throughout the forest. Papa was the first one who showed me where to pick them."

"Aren't those your favorite? We should go get some, make a day of it."

"They're all over picked for the summer." She explained with a bit of disappointment. "I went a few days after the celebration. Nothing left."

"Hm." He murmured thoughtfully.

"But… herbs and remedies?" She asked, watching him keenly. Always curious about his interests.

Ansell dipped his head, a touch bashful. "I know it's considered a woman's trade. Herbalists and midwives and poisoners." he shrugged, trying to sound merely casually interested yet failing.

"Ansell, I built a wheelbarrow for the garden today." She announced. "And I got a stern talking to from the headmaster for not only building it but also "reading too much and neglecting my duties to the household."" Belle rolled her eyes, scoffing.

"You know, the more I hear about this headmaster, the more I actively dislike him." The prince grumbled.

"The point is, I'm the last person to judge anyone's interests based on whether or not they conform to whatever the rest of the world thinks is for men or women."

He looked up her and was met with kind, sweet brown eyes and an encouraging smile.

"Pursue what makes you happy, and don't listen to them. It's hard sometimes, however, fitting in isn't always a good thing." Her mouth quirked and she said dryly. "Listen to the funny girl in town, she has experience. She'll also support you."

"Well, first of all, you're not funny. Not in the way they mean." He soothed, reaching out to caress her cheek with a finger. "Second, I honestly don't remember the last person to support my interests until you came along. And I'm so grateful I have you."

Belle ached at his words. It was so sad no one else had cared to nurture his talents or curiosities, yet instead force him into a mold. Times like the one in front of her made her think of how different their fathers were. Both of them had lost their mothers, but both had been exposed to very different types of care and parenting afterward. Maurice had always encouraged her, no matter how silly the idea or fixation. "I'll always support your interests."

"I'll support yours too." He reassured, feeling warm at the prospect of having someone simply encourage him to be him. "It being inventing and building to get out of work to read as much as possible."

"Excusez-moi, it's for _efficiency."_ She said, a touch defensive yet well aware he was just being bratty. "If you can make work easier and get it done faster-"

"To read books-"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Because that's just time wasted when you could be reading books." He shrugged, playfully.

She gazed pointedly at his book.

"I'm _studying_." He retorted. "Shouldn't you be bathing? You'll be cold and pruny if you keep trying to defend yourself. Leave me to my plants." She shot him a playful scowl and Ansell returned back to his book. It scarcely lasted a few minutes as his eyes wandered up to the bath. To the beautiful, tempting nakedness right under the surface of the water. Cher dieu he wasn't going to have any of that to sample for an entire month.

Belle saw his glazed over expression and the corner of her mouth pulled into an amused, crooked smile. "So plants?"

The prince snapped out of it, setting the book down. "You know," Ansell cleared his throat. "You're incredibly distracting in there. You're giving me all sorts of impure thoughts and keeping me from my reading." He accused dryly, teasingly.

"I feel like your thoughts have been _particularly_ impure lately." She pointed out, carefully washing an arm, knowing he was watching it all, enraptured with every second. "Also more frequent."

"I think it has something to do with stress? That, and not getting to see you for a month. Could be that." Ansell sighed, flopping down on the floor on his back, taking a deep, dramatic breath. "Maybe both."

"What is it now?"

"Just thinking about that large tub in our chambers. Fits the two of us." He muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes. "But there are so many people with sooo many questions at that castle. Not to mention my horrible brother."

Belle rolled her eyes at him. "Ansell, we never actually wash when we're in that tub."

"I know, it's wonderful."

"You're incorrigible."

"I could always change the subject and talk about plays…" He chuckled with her "which… is really not talking about plays as much as it is passionately arguing about plays until one of us concedes."

"It's not my fault you have terrible taste." She said a-matter-of-factly, smirking as she was well aware of what she was starting.

He grinned out from under his arm. "That's simply not true! We agree on so many and I'll have you know I've been making my way through the romances."

"Oh really?" Belle's voice said mirthfully from the tub.

"Yes, I've been trying to impress a young Mademoiselle from Villeneuve who is so _very_ opinionated about plays." Ansell's deep voice exclaimed from the floor. "It's dreadful, I have no idea why I try so hard, yet here I am agonizing over them to gain her affections."

"It sounds like you're trying a bit too hard, Monsieur." She countered "Perhaps her affections will come more naturally when you just admit you have bad taste in plays and are wrong."

"Such sweeping generalizations regarding my character and taste." peering out from under his arm, he stealthily reached up.

"They are what they are." she felt something tug at her braid that was hanging over the back of the tub.

"Untrue?" feeling a swat, he retreated.

"You're such a fan of overly masculine works." she rolled her eyes. "Manly men and swords and war."

"Oh, I'm the stereotype? Mademoiselle I-Love-Romances-And-Cute-Endings." He said in a mockingly higher voice, stealthily tugging her braid again and avoiding the sweeping hand.

She knew, without looking at him, that he was making some kind of stupid face at her. "Excuse me? There are tragic endings too, and you know it. It's not like Romeo and Juliet go riding off into the sunset." Her braid was tugged once more and she splashed some water over the side in retaliation. Hearing him sputter and shuffle she let out a soft, pleased laugh.

Ansell wiped the water from his mouth and allowed a silence to pass between them. He listened to the light sloshing of water in the tub, how Belle had started absently humming to herself. It was soft, gentle, barely there but oh so sweet. She didn't sing enough in his opinion, but he was never one to push her. "O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf." He began to recite Rosalind's lines from under his arm. "It is my arm." He replied as Orlando.

"I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion." Belle picked up gently, washing a leg.

He grinned, glad to have her on board. "Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady."

"Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon when he showed me your handkerchief?"

"Aye, and greater wonders than that."

Belle smiled warmly, shaking her head at the prone prince on the floor. How much more perfect could the night be? "-no sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy-"

"They are in the very wrath of love, and will together. Clubs will not part them." He finished for her, softly, smiling.

Both of them basked in the quiet that laid itself out afterward. Calm and comforting. The fire crackling and the wind whispering against the windows as the only noise. A lasting moment where Versailles didn't exist.

"What are you thinking about?" Belle asked softly, sincerely.

"Just next year." He confessed, less playful, more honest. "Where we'll be, what I'll be doing. What I'll be. I don't know what interests me, what I'll be good at." He was dazed at his spot on the floor. "I've never had to be anything other than a foppish heir to a title. I've never had to think about a career, about providing for a family. Everything was just, _there_."

"Well, you'll be with me." She reassured, also reassuring herself as the unknown was frightening. "We'll be somewhere safe, hopefully, with my father. And you'll find what you're good at because you're not only smart, but also for someone who's never been anything other than a foppish heir you're a surprisingly hard worker." Belle encouraged "And honestly we'll probably both be working in some capacity. Can you see me staying home as your little wife? Raising some brood while you _provide for us?_ "

"Oh, no. That would be awful... for both of us." He refrained from saying that she'd kill him, or that they'd both go crazy and in the end, she'd kill him. However, his darling was not one to be kept in the house. Certainly not in the traditional sense. And neither of them were terribly traditional. "Hm. We need to talk to your father."

"And the staff. I think they'll want to help."

"You know what I would like?" He finally grunted, pushing himself up off the floor. "A cup of wine."

"I'm almost done, could you pour me one too? Please?" She asked.

"Of course, my Darling Rosalind." Kissing the top of her head he headed off to the kitchen.

"What did you go get for dinner?" She asked, eyeing her robe, not really wanting to get out of warm the tub and into the brisker air. Beginning gauge if her hunger was worth the chill.

He paused, making a mildly pained sound as if she was not going to like his answer. "I may have… improvised."

Leaning back in the tub, she looked at him curiously. "How do you improvise dinner?"

"I may have gone to the patisserie instead of the cafe and gotten some pralines, some profiteroles, and a mille-feulle?" Turning, he smiled sheepishly at her.

Belle quirked a brow. "So you just brought back dessert?"

"Maybe?"

"A lot of dessert, from the sound of it."

"I'll have you know as the prince of the province, anything I say is fact." He announced, turning around and uncorking the bottle of wine. "And tonight, mille-feulle is a dinner food."

"Except for the fact that it _isn't_." She knew he was furrowing his brows as he took out two mugs.

"Excuse me, did you not hear the part where I'm the _prince_?" Ansell growled in mock frustration, turning with his brows furrowed and pouring wine into the mug.

"When has that _ever_ moved me?" Belle reminded stubbornly, playfully.

"I don't think I'm sharing my pralines or my wine with you now." He threatened. "You can go get your ow-"

Maurice tiredly opened the door to his house.

He looked up, hand aloft to take off his hat, and didn't quite know what he was seeing. It wasn't registering. The other hand nearly let go of the bundle of supplies tucked under his arm.

Ansell looked up at him from the kitchen in breeches and a shirt, pouring wine, a selection of desserts temptingly displayed in an open pastry box.

Belle slid further under the water as if she could sink entirely under and disappear.

Maurice opened his mouth, then shut it.

The prince froze and nearly spilled the bottle. "Hellooooo siiiiiir." His mind couldn't come up with a response. It was reeling as he fumbled to keep the Bordeaux from pouring onto the table.

"I'm home early." Maurice finally managed. Standard warmth in his voice not present. Stern, questioning, fatherly.

"That… you are." Ansell nervously watched the man go over and set his supplies down.

"Hello, Belle." He grunted, uncomfortable with the sight and the notion. Turning his back to her he shut his eyes to not even risk a glimpse. "I assume you kept yourself busy while I was away?" he placed his roll of paintbrushes at his workbench

His tone made her feel much smaller. And Belle wasn't quite sure how to answer that. She held onto the wall of the tub, eyes darting between her father and lover. Curling her toes under the water, she opened her mouth.

Ansell mouthed the words "help", looking like he was about to be fed to a pack of dogs.

"Would you mind getting dressed and going upstairs? Ansell and I will be having a chat out in the garden." He announced quickly, still looking away from the scene.

Hastily, water sloshing on the floor, she got up and threw her robe on. Poor Ansell looked like a cornered, wounded deer. All panicked big, soft eyes, begging her to help him as she made a break for the stairs.

"Um." The prince began to nod his head dumbly to Maurice's announcement. "Yes?"

Belle mouthed a "sorry" and slunk back up to her room.

"I'll take that, thank you." Turning around and walking over, Maurice stole the cup of wine out of his hand and doubled back to the door. "Come along, _boy_."

Pausing for a moment, he took the other cup of wine and slipped into his coat, buttoning it up, stepping into his boots.

Maurice was down the stone steps, hanging off of the garden fence. Chin tilted up, eyes focused on the stars that winked up above. A cool, crisp summer night. The tavern's raucous thunderings across town but a murmur.

The prince met him there, taking a deep breath.

"You know, I haven't spoken to you-" Maurice began, taking a sip of his cup. "not man to man. As an artist, I like to think I have more _liberal_ sensibilities. And frankly, I'm well aware that my daughter is so headstrong she's going to do whatever she wants with _whoever_ she wants no matter what I say or even try to say." He admitted with a sigh. "That, and you seem to a be a nice fellow." His face twisted thought " _Not_ when we first met, mind you. When you were all-" he gestured to the air, a hand like a claw as he emphasized a much larger height. "Furry. But it's clear you've come a long way."

"Sir, I never meant to disrespect you or your home in any way." He said quickly, voice full of nerves as he stood as rigid as one of the posts. Gulping down a mouthful of wine, the prince desperately wanted something stronger.

"Ansell, it's very clear you two love each other very much. However, I want you to think about the seriousness of you coming over and playing house with her." He explained somberly. "You two are going through the motions of really, truly integrating into each other's lives and creating stability for one another. But-" holding up a finger, turning to meet the young eyes glinting in the moonlight. "you're also going away to a place where excess is celebrated, for a _month._ "

Standing up a bit straighter, he suddenly felt a touch defensive. "Sir, I would never be unfaithful-"

"Aristocrats have a reputation. I'm not unread." He responded firmly. "You were quite the lavish host before you were cursed, were you not?"

"I admit, I did indulge in.. women." Face felt flush, stumbling over words. Could he just die instead of have this conversation? "I indulged in everything. However, Sir, a lot of me has changed. And your daughter is my rock."

"Belle has never really shown interest in anyone before." He told Ansell carefully. "I don't think there's a man in this entire village she's ever given a second glance. But there's you, son." He shook his head, smiling in disbelief as he was reminded the handsome prince in front of him used to look so frightful. "She lights up with you. And I know she'll be the type to not… stray… as it were." Maurice said awkwardly, doing his best. "She's focused, and passionate, and devoted. And I don't want to see her heart broken," the artist was uncharacteristically firm. "All because of what's encouraged when you're away. Everyone knows that men of your rank tend to become bored very quickly with monogamy."

"If we're being completely honest, I _hate_ French Court." the talk was more painful than being shot by Gaston, he was sure of it.

"It doesn't mean it's not tempting." Maurice took another sip. "It's easy to fall back into bad habits."

Ansell nodded his head slowly. The crickets singing, leaves of the vegetables rustling from a breeze, a cat darted across the street. "I hope I can prove myself to you." Head dipping, he let out a deep breath. "I love your daughter more than anything."

"Love doesn't mean people are immune from hurting one another." the older man noted wisely. "But, I do sincerely hope you're as good of a man as I think you are."

He looked up and saw her father's eyes. Warm, supportive.

"Because she loves you the world over, and you two are so good together it brings my heart joy." Reaching out, he clasped his hand over the prince's shoulder. "Now, let's go inside." Walking up the stairs, he turned to the young man who had paused in confusion. "What, did you think I was going to throw you out? It's come to my attention that currently, your home life isn't the best situation."

Ansell drained his cup and jogged up the stairs. "Thank you for the talk. And sir?"

Maurice's hand stopped on the handle.

"I don't that get much wisdom from my own father- or any wisdom, really- so it's appreciated." He said sincerely.

"You're very welcome. However, next time, you don't have to look at me like I'm going to threaten violence for hurting Belle." Opening the door they walked in. "She's capable of doing that herself."

Ansell held back a chuckle. Instead smiling in bemusement to the truth.

"I'm going to need a lot more of this very good wine." Maurice sighed heavily, walking back into his house. "Oh yes, Belle?"

Belle crept out of her room, in a nightgown and robe, looking down cautiously.

"Help Ansell clean up so you two can go to bed. It's mostly your mess." Ignoring how utterly confused she was, Maurice went for more wine as he heard his daughter move downstairs. Stopping and remembering, he pointed a finger up. "And you two? _Not_ while I'm here. You have plenty of other places and opportunities."

The pair exchanged anxious looks as Maurice dug through the pastry box, telling himself he deserved a profiterole for all the stress they put him through.

* * *

 _A/N: We're headed into more serious territory next week. But fluff and Shakespeare and princes deciding dessert is dinner food for this week. Who doesn't love that? Also, expect more of Maurice. He's one of my favorite voices of reason, and I think his relationship with Ansell should be explored. He is after all very close to his daughter._

 _As always, your comments, favs, and follows are always appreciated. Have questions? Concerns? Problems? Let me know._


	13. Chapter 13

Belle was grateful the staff had taken so eagerly to educating Ansell as it meant she had time to work on the garden's late summer crop before the colder weather affected the plants.

The time in the dirt was spent musing over the prospect of running away with Ansell. Trying to think of when it would be best to leave, when they may be ready, what they may need, or where they could possibly go. Musing over how hard it would be to keep his father at bay, or if by some divine miracle the Duke would allow him to relinquish his title and give it to his brother who seemed keen to inherit. Perhaps Leon would help them if it meant him becoming the new heir to the province. As her mind wandered through the what-ifs Belle began to think about what Ansell may be good at. An artist, like her father? A merchant? Textiles? Fishing? She was sure he would find something to excel at, her prince was so eager to learn her way of life. A far cry from other princes she assumed. Those who wouldn't care to come into town and stay at her cottage. Those who would want to shower her with luxury and stay away from the realities of the world she came from.

"Mademoiselle, you never gave me that tour."

Looking up from the row of carrots, the sky darkening with lethargic gray rain clouds, Belle found Leon. Draped in the finest clothing a noble could wear while venturing outdoors, sitting astride a stunningly proud white horse. Feathered and grand like it's master, impatiently pawing the cobblestones as the Viscount slung himself down. "My Lord." She rose slowly, wiping her hands on her apron. Wishing she could just ignore him like she had Gaston and every other man who came drooling her way so many times.

"So this is your… Cottage." His eyes judged every inch. The little sliver of paradise his brother had escaped to. Worn and repaired, dirty, simple, the girl in the dirt watching him so very carefully. Was this what Anselme desired? Dreadful.

"It is." She tensed her jaw, trying to gauge his next move. "I would invite you in-"

"No need, but thank you." Taking off his riding gloves, Leon prowled up to the fence.

"And what has you in town, Sire?" Belle held her ground as her stomach twisted to the thought of his family knowing where the house was. Where their sanctuary was.

"I wanted to take in the countryside, see what has enraptured my brother so much." He ignored those gawking on the street at him in all his splendor.

"There's a lot of charm to the province." She offered, steadying herself as her pulse quickened. "Ansell's been appreciating it's beauty for the first time since the curse has been broken."

"Yes, _charm."_ He grunted in a way that meant he felt otherwise, drawing a curious brow, frowning at the flock of geese that loudly meandered past them. " _Ansell._ You do not address His Highness properly?"

Belle swallowed thickly, eyes darting to the side. "I apologize, we became very informal during my stay in the castle during the-"

"The curse, yes. I suppose he didn't go by Prince Anselme then. Did he even go by Ansell?"

There was a small crowd lingering on the corner of the street. Watching, muttering, she wanted to shout at them to leave but it would only worsen things. She couldn't even begin to fathom the tall tales that would crop up in the morning. "No, My Lord. I addressed him as the Beast." The clouds were navy overhead, churning. A prayer for rain never left her lips but she wished it could. An excuse to leave him, to keep him from prying and sniffing around.

"Hm." Leon tied his horse to the fence, a smug smirk on his lips as he watched her mind at work. A smart one this was, gears turning tenaciously behind those keen brown eyes. Funny, Anselme used to favor the dimmer beauties. "I would love to see the town, could I trouble you for a walk?" Offering a hand, he watched her hesitate. A silence passing between them, a look of defiance shot at him. A rebellious one, perhaps for his brother the sweetest prey was the one that was hardest to catch. "Your Lord _requests_ your presence." It was a pointed, low-toned threat and he watched her stew before the girl opened the gate.

The door opening made them both look back. Maurice came out, adjusting his glasses, curious yet concerned.

"Your father I presume?" Leon straightened his back.

"Papa, this is Prince Anselme's brother." She explained her voice tense. "The Viscount."

"Your Grace," Maurice came down and bowed, looking the man over cautiously. His daughter had told him enough for him to feel on edge towards the visit. "And what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I wanted to tour my father's lands." Leon's voice was cool and in control, eyes flicking from the old man to the young woman. "I've heard so much about the village and when we first met your daughter offered me a tour of Villeneuve."

"Hm," Maurice could tell the last person his daughter wanted to be near was the man in front of them. Thought Belle had begun to venture rather far from the safety of the nest, it was still hard for him to not want to shelter her from any threats. Even if that included her beloved's family.

"So I'm here to steal her away for a short time."

The hair on the back of his next stood up. Something about the way it was said. "Sire, I think-"

"I don't mind, Papa." Belle told him, a protective hint in her tone. With a reassuring look that was far more steely than it should have been, she opened the gate. Well aware that if her father tried to stand up for her and dismiss the viscount it could be considered defiance against a nobleman. "After all, I did promise." Leon outstretched a gentlemanly hand, and the one she used to take his was stained with dark earth. Caked under her nails and damp from the fall rains, the rich soil brushed against him and pressed into his palm, giving him a light coating. She took a little pleasure in how he recoiled ever so slightly from her lack of propriety. "I'm sorry, _My Lord_. I had to harvest our carrots."

"No need for apology, I interrupted you." He winced just enough for it to be caught.

"I'll be back before supper." She reassured her father, leaving reluctantly yet not with fear.

Taking her down the street, the viscount began to search for what his brother enjoyed so much. Whatever had Anselme flocking to the village to play the part of some drab cottage dwelling commoner. It couldn't just be the girl, she didn't hold a candle to the wide selection a young prince had in Paris. That frock, tucked into her apron at the side, those bloomers and dirty boots. Hair falling out of its ponytail in wisps, book tucked into a homemade pocket. What a rough little thing. "Prince Anselme has been dreadfully busy since you last dropped by." Leon offered. "Father wanted me to see him readied for court, but I keep being told that's taken care of. I suspect it's your doing?"

"I've known His Grace for over a year." Belle nodded slightly, a chill running up her spine. It felt so odd to call Ansell by his former titles. His Grace, His Highness, His Excellence, His Majesty, Prince Anselme. He was Ansell, her Dearest. Her big sweet love, no matter what size or shape. "I believe I have a good grasp of what he needs to improve so he can have a successful debut at court. I simply suggested the staff work together to help him excel."

"Hmn." The Viscount's chin tilted. "Well thank you for helping me work less. He never did like to listen to me or talked to me for that matter. I doubt I would have been any help."

She knew bait when she saw it. Belle's eyes wandered around as she chose her words with as much tact as she could. "He can be rather stubborn at times."

Leon scoffed. "At times? He must have improved greatly then." Pausing, he glanced over some textiles someone was carrying into a shop. Cheaply printed paisleys, an attempt at knocking off the latest Parisian fashion trends. "You were startlingly absent from the castle while my father was lodged there. May I ask why? We certainly don't bite, though His Highness may bark rather loud."

There was a low grumble of thunder as the wind picked up, rustling the bales of hay and flapping awnings. "You hadn't seen the prince in so long, I wanted to give you time as a family." Belle began to walk back home, ready to site the turn in the weather as her excuse to retreat. However, his hand grabbed her wrist. "Sire-"

"Just a bit further." He said tightly, coldly. Squeezing her wrist to keep her from squirming away. "It isn't raining just yet."

Belle wanted to jerk her hand out of his grasp, yet all she could do is steady herself.

Stephane came out from the candle shop, watching the nobleman in elaborate clothing keeping Belle from moving away from him. His eyes narrowing, he reached for his rapier hanging in its frog near the door.

"That was very thoughtful of you, giving us space," Leon told her, observing people begin to close their windows to keep out the oncoming rain. Even if the pair was good gossip, it wasn't worth the water.

When Leon looked towards the oher side of the street she shook her head slightly at Stephane. The candlemaker dropped his hand and lingered carefully. Gustave came up and stood behind him, placing a hand on his partner's shoulder, the two mindful of their friend and her suspiciously dangerous looking escort. "I also live with my father, he needs my help." She supplied with a growl edging into her words, ripping her wrist away.

"Mademoiselle-" he began in a low, threatening tone.

"You can escort me, Sire. But I don't wish to be touched." Belle snapped.

Leon dusted his hands together to remove the dirt that clung to his fingers. "Well, you shouldn't take our intrusion as a reason to stay away." He noticed the men in the candle shop and flashed a smile to them. Tipping his ridiculously plumed hat. "His Grace is clearly very fond of you, and I wouldn't want to disrupt your visitations." Leon's eyes slid to the side, and he chuckled to himself. "And I won't, as per the prince's very strict orders."

Belle looked up at him, her pace slowing.

"Oh, you might not know." Pausing, he reached for a rose a farmer was carrying away in a basket heaped with blossoms. Plucking it, he studied the lacy pink petals as the farmer was oblivious to the theft. "You see, Mademoiselle, I'm actually breaking the rules right now. His Grace was very clear a few days ago I was not to see you." Drawing it to his nose, he breathed the sweetness in deeply. "It was why I was a bit skittish at the castle. Eyes everywhere, you know." Running his finger up the thorny stem, he remembered what he had heard about the curse. Truly an enchanted rose. "I forgot how _loud_ he can be when he starts ordering and _threatening_. Everyone's been acting like he's such a kitten now, but it's still in there. That temper." Leon caught a glimpse of her face, the sudden uncertainty creeping in. Lifting his head, he soldiered on. His hooks were in and he savored it. "Physically threatening to do harm _himself_. That's a new one though."

She turned her head away, worry sweeping across her face she didn't wish him to see. "So he threatened you with violence," Belle muttered.

"Well, it _started_ as a threat. You know, he always used to just tell me the guards would throw me out. But he was much slighter in build back then. _Lithe."_ Leon mused. "Not an outdoorsman in the least. Much more muscled now, one can assume from his exertions when he had his condition." Shrugging, he caught the sight of a priest watching them from a church window. The Pere's eyes judging him sternly. He nodded in respect, guiding her back around towards her house. "But still, throwing me up against a wall, hand at my _throat_. Didn't see that coming."

The farm girl dipped her head, her face feeling hot. Trying to tell herself it was what he wanted, her reaction, to sow so much doubt in Ansell. "Were you badly hurt, Sire?" Her words held a bitter edge from being toyed with.

"Just rattled, particularly after he threatened to throw me out the window if I so much as came near you." A mist swept through the darkened town, and they walked more briskly back to the house.

"I'm sorry you had that experience with the prince." Belle bit the inside of her cheek as the knots in her stomach lurched. The image of Ansell, wild-eyed and atop Leon in the fencing hall flashing across her mind. His snarling, roaring, terrifying face. Ready to beat the living daylights out of his brother. The beast in the woods; his snarling, roaring, terrifying face.

"He obviously cares about you a great deal. And how could he not? _True love broke the curse._ " Spinning the flower between his fingers, he smiled to himself. "We all know what that means, my dear. By the laws of magic, you two are _clearly_ soulmates."

"I'd never thought of it that way." The gate was so close she lengthened her strides.

"Well, I think he does." He grinned, gaze so wicked. "It's so Shakespearean if you think about it." The girl was so focused on the road she never caught it as the rain began to patter.

The brown eyes flickered up to him, her voice low, cold. "Which kind would it be, Sire?"

"You've been such a wonderful companion, Belle." He told her as she unlocked the gate and he stepped to the side to retrieve his horse. "I didn't get to see the whole of the village, but perhaps when the weather permits I'll venture out another day."

"I'm honored to have provided you with the company." She said unconvincingly, latching the gate, keeping him away.

"But perhaps this can be our little secret?" Leon chivalrously offered the rose as the raindrops grew heavy and fat. "For my health, of course. I'd rather not like to find myself sailing through the air towards the gardens."

The silence between them was thick and threatening. A quagmire Belle desperately wanted to be pulled out of. After a moment, her eyes narrowed and she took the flower. Ferocious, stubborn, staring intensely at the petals. "I dislike keeping secrets from the prince, Sire." The brown eyes shot up at him, burning. "Perhaps it would be wise to heed his warnings. I wish he wouldn't have acted the way he had, but those are his wishes and _he is the prince._ "

Leon's mouth tightened. Bowing, he recovered. "You are all too wise, Mademoiselle."

"I'm sure _eventually_ the opportunity will present itself for me to tell him about your visit." She threatened, watching his face quietly boil in defeat.

"Thank you for your time, and I must bid you adieu." Reaching over he took her hand and felt it resist as he brought it to his lips and kissed it. "Stay dry."

"You as well, Sire. The storm looks quite nasty." Taking a step back, the rain soaking her dress, she watched him ride off. Catching her breath Belle turned, chucked the rose into the muddying soil, and quickly walked up the steps. Leaning against the door and taking a deep breath to compose herself before seeing her father.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late." Ansell apologized, shucking off his coat and taking off his hat as he entered the house. The rain was pounding on the roof as he pulled off his soaking wet boots thick with red mud. "I went a roundabout route but I'd like to think it was worth it."

Both Maurice and Belle looked up from their respective projects. One working on his piece for the next fair, the other simply doing her best to distract her restless mind.

"You're sopping wet." She said, wondering what he had possibly gotten himself into as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"More damp than anything else. It's warm in here, it shouldn't last too long." He watched Belle get up and motioned her to stay where she was. "I was thinking, maybe I can handle dinner? One of those learning new things… things."

"Why don't I supervise?" She suggested, rising and watching him set a satchel on the kitchen counter and roll up his sleeves. Turning her head, she watched plump red berries tumble out of the unfastened opening. It was enough to pull her mind away from Leon. "What's this?"

"Oh," He turned, grinning triumphantly, motioning for her to take a look. "You were saying everything out in the forest has been over-picked and you couldn't find any more raspberries."

"And you did?" Belle asked with slight disbelief, taking out a cheesecloth stained with juice. A bundle of her favorite fruits was wrapped inside, bright and glistening. Of all people to be an expert berry-hunter, her prince. She looked curiously up at him as her father came over and felt a twinge. His brother's words kept echoing in her mind, as much as she wanted to forget them. The old Ansell, the one Leon wanted her to believe was just a few days at court away. Belle told herself that simply wasn't true.

The prince showed her his thorn pricked hands, his brow furrowing to the look on her face. The brightness gone from her eyes, pensive, hesitant, perhaps pained? He wondered what was wrong. "I thought you might like them." Ansell supplied, hoping to cheer her up in some small way. "There's also some early squash and I found some sage and thyme, and just a bit of rosehips. Oh! And some mushrooms, not poisonous, I promise."

Belle glanced from the bounty to Ansell, and back again. Forgetting for a moment about the day's events. "You found this all wild?"

The golden head nodded, watching her inspect the raspberries. "I knew where the berries were, and everything else was more or less nearby. You just have to know where to look." He shrugged. "I know cooking isn't a pastime of the house, but maybe you can barter some of it?"

Maurice inquisitively studied the contents that had been pulled out of the bag. Lips thoughtfully pursing as he picked up a small palmful of rosehips. "Ansell, how did you come to be such a keen botanist?"

"I've been curious lately." He replied as if his skills were more a casual hobby. "It was just recently that I started reading up on uses for plants. Belle inspired me from uh… a conversation we had-" He nodded to her. "And I began to realize I knew where a lot of the flora in question grew-"

She looked up, piecing it all together. "You spent a lot of time in the forest." Belle realized. " _Years_."

"I was bored quite often, so I took to the woods to get out of my rotting castle." Ansell supplied, suddenly becoming anxious, a bit ashamed. Talking about his cursed years was often a difficult thing to push through. "That and… ahm… after a while, I may have given into more baser instincts." Twisting his hands together, he hoped that wasn't a new development for Belle. He had after all littered his chambers with the bones of his prey when she had first broken into the west wing. It was all so unseemly though. "But because of all that I know all of the places people go, and the places they don't. The places where just the _animals_ go. The deer trails, the migration paths, where everything grows." Taking in their stunned silence, Ansel shifted as he wasn't quite able to read them. The pair just kept looking at him, and then the herbs, and then each other. Thunder rumbled outside.

Maurice stared down at the herbs in his palm, finally clearing his throat and speaking up. "Do you know what they all do?"

"A little? I'm not very good at it but-" The Prince squinted in thought, trying to recollect his reading. "Headaches-" He pointed to the sage. "But also culinary seasoning. Apparently, it's very rare so far up north and does better near the coast? However, there's a large patch just west of the castle where there's a fox den. Rosehips for digestion, thyme for seasoning but also toothaches, gout, a few other things. The mushrooms are cepes and trompette de la mort for cooking." He paused thoughtfully, raising a brow. "Which I might give some to Chef, he probably would like it."

Belle's face slackened.

"What?" He asked nervously, both Maurice and Belle gawking at him in disbelief. She still hadn't said anything. Was she still stuck on the fact he used to hunt like an animal? Or whatever was wrong still hurting her?

"Ansell, you could be an herbalist." She finally managed a smile, a proud one he hoped, tugging on the corners of her mouth.

"Really?" The prince was taken aback by the announcement. Rubbing the back of his neck, he mused over the thought. "You think so? People would pay me for all this?" She grinned proudly and his knees began to melt.

Maurice chuckled. "Oh my boy, quite a bit of money. What you have right here is a very comfortable amount of money for a day's work."

"It wasn't even a day, I just took a longer route over here." He told them, surprised his detour was so well received.

"When you get back from Versailles, you should talk to Agatha," Belle told him, trying to contain her enormous excitement over the prospect of Ansell having already having found his skill. "She knows a lot about mixing herbs and their medicinal uses. You might be able to trade some of your bounty for lessons."

"Huh." He thought it all over, smiling.

"Good job." Maurice patted his back. "Let me get some twine, we'll dry these for later use."

Belle sidled up to him and rested a palm flat on his chest, tilting her head up and giving him a kiss.

"So I did good?" He asked softly, his smile warm and earnest.

"You did very good." She smiled wearily into his damp waistcoat. "You're full of surprises."

"Are you alright, Darling?" He asked, cupping her cheek.

"What do you mean?" She asked, not sounding as nearly as comfortable as she wanted.

"Just seems like something's off." he sighed. "You look a little tired."

"I could use some sleep." She admitted, feeling drained from the day's disturbance. Holding him by the waist, she dipped her head. "I love you."

He paused, as it wasn't her standard declaration of affection. It sounded strained, something masked behind the words. "I love you too." Nuzzling her slightly, he held her a little tighter. "I love you the world over."


	14. Part One

Ansell gently pressed his lips to Belle's forehead, hoping to not wake her. The early morning had her curled against him, dozing lightly, looking so serene. Carefully he pulled an arm out from under, wincing when she grimaced and let out a soft murmur of noise.

Before her eyes even opened, she clumsily nuzzled him, kissing his chest. Lazily snaking her arms up and around his neck.

He smiled, pulling her closer, kissing her gently. Moaning when she kissed him back harder in return.

"Good morning." She smiled half awake, waking up quickly.

"Mmn, good morning to you too." Feeling a hand drop and slip under his shirt, he rumbled and was the recipient of a much longer and more arousing lip lock. Ansell was always appreciative of the rare days where Belle decided she needed some early morning attention. Sated, she'd drift off afterward to wake up later and he'd get ready for the day far more relaxed and invigorated.

Belle smiled warmly, pressing her lips to his stubbled jaw, humming as she peeled his shirt off. Taking his shoulder she rolled onto her back, pulling him on top of her. Wanting to be reminded that despite the awful conversation the day before her prince wasn't a snarling brute, but rather attentive.

Ansell kissed her back deeply as he pushed up her gown and her fingers grasped his breeches, tugging them towards his knees so he could kick them off. Pressing his lips to her stomach, petting up and down her torso, listening to her breath hitch as he dropped the hand and began caressing her thigh. Ghosting his fingers inward. Grinning when she pulled him closer. Oh, he loved mornings like-

Everything stopped.

Belle frowned when the attention ceased. Taking his hand and pushing it to where she wanted. The fingers curled away and she let out a deep, vexed breath. _"What-"_

"We promised not to." He groaned in frustration, opening his eyes to his darling who looked at him stunned and frankly a touch angry.

"Really?" She growled incredulously, hooking her legs around his to keep him from escaping. Feeling uncomfortable and desperate to satisfy her aching needs. "You're really going to stop now?"

"Belle-" he heaved as she began to coat his neck in slow, thick kisses. "I'm trying…" her hand reached southward and his breath hitched. "I'm trying to make…" He began to pant, she gently bit his lip to silence him. Bon dieu. "Good.. impress-"

"We're sooo close." She purred mischievously, winding fingers through his hair, grabbing his jaw and kissing him longingly. "Mon beau, s'il vous plaît?" She whispered against the skin of his neck with a grin.

"Vorte beau? Votre bête." Letting out a low, husky laugh, he conceded and resumed his caressing much to his partner's delight. "And they think I'm the troublemaker."

* * *

Maurice was so used to being the first one up.

His daughter had always been a night owl. It had been an ordeal when she was a baby; howling late into the night, snoozing late into the day, wrecking his poor internal clock. So he was used to having the mornings to himself. Stoke the fire, make a small breakfast, read a bit, work on a sketch, putter around until Belle came down and took charge. She was so good at taking charge. He never asked her to do it, as she had shown an inclination for fixing and inventing, it just naturally occurred as she wasn't allowed to go to school and needed to focus her energy on something.

It was an adjustment though to have Ansell leave his daughter's bedroom the same time he was leaving his own. They looked at one another, awkwardly.

"Good morning, Sir." The boy finally nodded, blushing for some reason, sheepishly making a go for the stairs.

"You're up early." He noted. Maurice would never not be amused that the prince, the ruler of their province, heir to everything around him, addressed him as "Sir". Said in a tone that was often more associated with gawkish young school boys asking permission to take girls to dances than handsome nobleman.

"With the sun." Ansell sputtered.

"Belle's usually-"

"I like to let her sleep in, makes for a more harmonious day." Heading for the fireplace and rolling up his sleeves, he swallowed thickly. Had he heard them? Had he said too much? What was too much? Lord, he and Maurice had talked so little since the curse broke. It had mostly been reassurances that he was a good person and very worthy of his daughter. They might have had an exchange about the weather? But what if he had heard them? Oh hell, what if he had heard them.

Maurice paused, watching the prince start the day off. The lad as white as a sheet, as if he was looking into the face of his maker. He hoped he wasn't that scary to the boy. "Ansell, if you get the fireplace started and bring in the wood I'll start the stove and the kettle."

He paused, thinking it over. "I can go feed the animals and get water if you sweep? I'm not very good at it." Maybe he hadn't heard them?

"Deal."

Stepping outside, Ansell pressed his back to the closed door and exhaled to the bottom of his nervous, quaking lungs.

* * *

"One two three, one two three, and one two three! There you go, Master!" Cadenza chanted as he played the beat on his harpsichord. "Chapeau, now please and thank you."

Chapeau began playing his violin, somehow managing to be skilled and yet just as stuffy.

"I'm so sorry I stepped on your toes, Madame." Ansell murmured self-consciously as he stepped in and out with Gardenrobe, his dance partner. The ballroom was bright with sunlight, shimmering from the jewels hanging on the chandeliers.

"You're learning, my prince." She smiled warmly. "And improving every day! You'll be a gem at Versailles, just you wait."

"Thank you, your reassurances really are appreciated." He responded sincerely, carefully following her steps and gestures. "You know, I find myself wondering why you and the Maestro have yet to go tour now that the curse is broken." He mused carefully. "Not that I'm trying to get you to leave, you'll always have a home and employment here. But you used to travel so much, and I had only brought you on for the summer."

"We've been here so long, Your Highness, we find ourselves reluctant to leave our family." She bowed her head, smiling warmly. "But the Maestro and I do yearn for the crowds. We simply find ourselves hesitating to take the step."

"Master! Keep that arm up! Don't you dare get sloppy!" Cadenza chided.

Ansell quickly fixed his form, circling the Madame gracefully. "Would you perhaps like to come to Versailles as my personal artists in residence? Test the waters and all that?"

The Madame's eyes widened.

"Would you?" He asked, smiling hopefully. "There's some selfish motive on my part, I _would_ love more familiar faces on this trip. But you could perform for the court and reintroduce yourselves to socie-"

"MEASTROOO!" She sang, grinning. Clutching her chest and looking ready to swoon from joy. Ansell stepping in and hooking an arm around her waist to support the Madame. "My Darling we're going to VERSAILLES!"

* * *

Maurice looked up as the door opened and shut. The roosters were just beginning to crow, a gentle stirring of life coming from the village outside.

"Weather's turning," Ansell told him, peeling off his coat as he came in with his satchel stretched full of greenery protruding from the top. Blowing on his chilled hands, he grimaced at the cold before taking off his hat.

"Thank you for starting the fire and tending to the outside chores before you left." He said, taking a sip as he worked in slow, careful strokes. Sketching out his next project, he glanced up from the tops of his glasses as Ansell went to the kitchen.

"Not a problem, I'm beginning to see them as my duties." Setting his bag on the counter in the kitchen, he unfastened the buckles. "I like being a part of the house. Contributing, as it were."

"And where did you take off to before sunrise?"

"The woods." He explained. "I managed to harvest some more plants. Then I went to the market and did a bit of bartering. Tried my hand at it, at least. But I also brought back some things to dry in the shed."

The artist got up, curious about this Ansell fellow who was a little different from the rest. Which, aligned with his daughter. "And no one was bothered the prince was in the market with a satchel full of herbs?" Walking over to the stove, he took a cup from a shelf.

Ansell smirked. "You know, the last time everyone saw me I was rather princely; silk suit and stockings, heels, clean shaven, hair curled. It seems running around in huntsman's clothing with my hair down, a two-week-old beard, and dirt under my nails is enough to fool some of them." He mused, taking out bundles of plants and carefully sorting them. "Not everyone, mind you. Pere Robert and I had a very nice conversation. I gave him a bundle of lavender and sage after he told me yesterday he was looking for some to dry because his garden was ruined this summer."

"That was kind of you."

Looking down, he saw a cup being held out to him. The coffee he had a hankering for, hot ropes of steam curling up from the dark liquid. "He's a good friend of Belle's, and we get along well. That and I like helping out if I can." Taking the cup, he smiled hopefully up at Maurice. "Thank you."

"And what did your trading net you?" Maurice asked. Craning his neck towards the bag, watching in amusement as the prince rather happily explained his morning haul. Bright, kind blue eyes. A good match to his daughter's soft, smart brown ones. He admired the effort and earnestness looking back at him.

* * *

Pressing down too hard, Ansell's quill exploded with ink onto the paper he had been diligently trying to turn into a page of neat, clean notes. Seeping all over the place, his fingers were covered and his words disappeared in a pool of black. Scowling, he lifted his hands up for a better examination, snorting to himself in frustration.

Belle chortled across the table.

Looking up at her, that mischievous, mocking smile, he narrowed his eyes. Taking a hand dripping in ink, he flicked a finger at her.

She recoiled as her face was smacked by the assaulting spatter.

Ansell laughed.

"MASTER." Cogsworth chided.

Rolling his eyes, he slumped in his chair.

As soon as their teacher's back was turned, she stuck her tongue out at him.

Ansell curled his lips and wagged his tongue as if he still had large fangs.

"BELLE. Of all people!" Cogsworth gasped as he caught her.

She sat up, immensely guilty.

Ansell smirked with pride.

Her gaze was full of daggers towards him as she pulled a towel from her belt and wiped the ink off, throwing it at his face when she was done so he could clean up.

Her prince snickered, tugging the cotton towel off the top of his head.

"Master Anselme, DO YOU MIND?"

* * *

Maurice limped down to the kitchen to see Ansell already up and in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Maurice."

"Good morning." Maurice, the boy was trying something new. "Oof." Wincing, he carefully shuffled towards the table.

Ansell turned, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"My back isn't as young as it used to be." He grimaced, sinking into a stiff chair. "Occasionally it likes to remind me."

"Hmn. You know, my father has a bad back." The prince's voice mused from the other room. "He's gone to every expensive doctor and charlatan he can throw money at. Then all that money disappears in a flash of smoke, and he's complaining about it again."

"You never speak of him." Rubbing his lower spine, he eyed his sketchbook and stick of graphite. Ever a man of morning rituals.

"Because he's a horrible, miserable man, who made me into a horrible, miserable prince." it was a rumble, anger welling up and gripping the young man's chest. Tilting his chin down, he wouldn't even make eye contact with Maurice as he stewed. "Never one for wisdom, or caring for others, or fostering any kind of affection. Just greed, self-indulgence, and duty to our long lineage of dreadful nobility." The voice said the last bit dryly. There was the clinking of pottery, the shuffle of dry herbs. "A true _joy_ to behold."

"I'm sorry." The poor boy, no wonder he had been so angry.

"My mother? Now, she was a ray of light." The voice softened.

Maurice smiled wistfully, curious as to the sound of a mortar and pestle. "My wife was the same."

There was the rush of water pouring from a kettle and he returned with a heavy mug. "Belle doesn't talk about her much, but when she has it's always been in fondness." Setting the cup in front of Maurice, the aromatic brew sloshing and spilling a ring on the table, he met the confused old eyes with his own. "I've been doing some more reading. This little mixture helps with inflammation and pain. And it works, I had some this morning for my shoulder."

"Your shoulder?"

"I've had some pain ever since Gaston shot me." He reminded the artist as he slunk into his chair. "Everything healed when the curse was broken, however, occasionally I get this blasted ache. But that seems to do the trick-" Pointing a finger to the cup, he lifted his own and took a sip. "Mrs. Potts used to make it for me at the castle, but I managed to get the recipe out of her for those times she's not nearby to make it."

Maurice mused over the flavor before setting his cup down. Licking his lips, he sighed. "All that, you being shot and the curse breaking was only three months ago. Somehow it feels longer."

"It does, then some days it's just like it was yesterday." Ansell sighed, reaching around and rubbing his shoulder. "I go through the castle and see it completely repaired, yet I remember every little broken thing." Tilting his head to the side his lip twitched. "I destroyed an awful lot of artwork in my anger, I'm sure you don't like hearing that, but it's a relief they mended. Portraits are all I have of her- my mother."

"What was she like? If I may be so bold."

"Kind." Ansell gazed up at the rafters, pulling the bits and bobs of moments with her out of the recesses of his mind. "She wouldn't hurt a fly and wanted to give back to the people. She dreamed-" He smiled fondly, fingers running around the rim of the mug. "She spoke of school and hospitals, community centers, churches, orphanages, housing. If it had been up to her, there would be no famine. No poverty. Villeneuve was her town to rule because it was so close to her castle. And I've heard that when she was here it thrived." Face hot with emotion, Ansell fixated on the fragments of leaves swirling in his brown brew. "She was incredibly well educated; the library was her favorite room in the entire castle. Read to me for hours, or had me read to her when I was big enough to. Everything was so safe when we were in there together..." the room suddenly felt like it was closing in, his chest tightened. "She was full of so much goodness and love." He finished, trailing off.

The young man's face glowed with affection and Maurice could see where the prince's gentleness came from. "She sounds wonderful."

"She would've been disgusted with the man I became." He couldn't look up, he simply shook his head in shame. "So much like my father, who she was with out of obligation, not love."

"You mean the old you."

The brooding blue eyes looked up, so trapped in their shame. Maurice could see the demons in him; the regret wanting to swallow him whole.

Maurice took another sip. Floral? Earthy, perhaps. "I think it's safe to say that despite all your sins, you've found the path she wanted you to take." He said gently. "I mean, look at you. Talking to some old artist in a dusty cottage in a poor little provincial town. Far cry from your galas, opulence I hear you used to enjoy. And very far away from when you threw me in a dungeon for picking a flower."

"Which I can't express how sorry I-"

"You've been forgiven, Ansell." Maurice reeled the anxious lad back in. "But look at how far you've come in just a year. The strides you've made. You're still making mistakes, but we all do because we're human. And despite being a man who could have anything his heart desired, you're here." Pausing, he let the room breathe. Listening to a rooster across town crow, taking a slow sip of his herbal brew.

* * *

"Quit patronizing me!"

"Don't tell me you don't need help!" Mrs. Potts shouted back at her petulant pupil.

"I'm not a CHILD." Ansell barked, abruptly rising up from his seat at the dining table. "I know how to eat my food!" A full dinner setting was carefully laid out in front of him, along with small plates of food to practice on. A bowl of soup, a salad, a slice of steak, a bread roll with butter on the side, a small piece of cake. It was finished with the smallest teacup Mrs. Potts could find to challenge his dexterity.

The Englishwoman wagged a finger at him. "You may think you know, but you make a mess at EVERY MEAL."

"I DO NOT." He roared sourly at the accusation, the longest scowl on his face.

"YES YOU DO." She watched him grab the teacup angrily. Fumbling, hot liquid spilling everywhere, he tried to catch it in the air and burnt himself on a splash of tea. The cup shattered into a hundred delicate pieces on the marble floor.

He gazed up, cradling his scalded hand, blue eyes stunned for just a moment until they burned in frustration. "That was an accident." The prince snapped.

"Land sakes! What if that was CHIP?" She gestured forcefully to the poor cup.

"Well… Chip would have jumped." He grumbled, reaching.

"You need practice!"

"I DO NOT." Ansell began to pace, bristling and curling his lip. "This is REDICU-"

The door opened and Belle came in.

Whirling around to snap, he saw her and the anger was immediately wiped off his face as it registered how much trouble he could be in.

"He's being difficult." Mrs. Potts told her, watching Belle, all business, walk to the table.

"I was playing with the children, could hear him all the way on the lawn." She explained humorlessly.

His stubborn streak returned. "Well I don't need this JUVENILE and frankly INSULTING lesson on holding utensils."

Belle scoffed. "Yes, you do."

Ansell wiped a hand down his mouth. "I most certainly DO NOT."

Folding her arms, Belle looked pointedly at the broken teacup.

He pointed a sharp finger to the mess. "THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"

"Any opportunity you can you EAT WITH YOUR HANDS." She raised her voice.

"THAT'S A-"

Mrs. Potts, bolstered by Belle's presence, stepped in. "You sip your soup out of the bowl, stab your salad like you need to kill it, have ruined at least two shirts from spilling coffee and tea, try to request finger foods as much as possible, and don't think I didn't catch you eating the FILET MIGNON with your bare hands."

"THAT WAS ONE TIME." He snorted. "I'm sorry, right after the curse was broken I'm not allowed to adjust my habits?!"

"Last night at the house you used three pieces of bread to sop up the stew and shovel it in your mouth." Belle keep an even, firm tone with him. Half expecting him to start baring fangs. "You didn't even touch your spoon."

Looking at her he blustered. "SOME PEOPLE JUST EAT STEW THAT WAY."

"NOT PRINCES." She stormed over and got in his face. "What are you going to do, eat with your hands in front of the KING?!"

A loss for words, he let out a frustrated growl, searching for the right response. "WELL… MAYBE I WILL." Turning away, he pulled at his hair, mane tumbling out of its tie.

"Are you really going to fight me over table manners?!" She gawked.

"This is STUPID AND CHILDISH."

"And you're acting childish!"

"I. AM. NOT."

"You're throwing a fit because you don't like something?"

His jaw clenched.

"I'm sorry relearning all of this wounds your fragile ego, Ansell, but you have terrible hand-eye coordination when you handle small objects. You miss buttons, you drop cups, you break quills, somehow you bent a spoon-"

"All minor mistakes! You're all acting like I've never held a FORK in my life!" Ansell huffed. Pausing, narrowing his eyes "and my ego is NOT fragile."

Remembering she had been playing with the children, Belle fished a small ball out of a pocket. "Ansell, catch." She said, under-handedly lobbing it slowly, gently, over to him.

The ball arced lazily, and Ansell lunged with all the skill of a far-sighted cat going for a bird. However, instead of catching it in his hand, he batted by accident. It landed in the bowl of soup, splattering minestrone everywhere.

Mrs. Potts slowly made the sign of the cross.

Staring at the mess, the noble shoulders dropped. Screwing up his face, narrowing his eyes he huffed. "I wasn't ready."

Belle's brow raised and her hands went to her hips. "Do you want me to throw it again?"

He looked away, a silence passing. "No."

* * *

Belle heard boots coming out to the colonnade. She refused to look up, turning the page of her book as she read amongst the roses.

Ansell sat down next to her, but not touching. Leaning forward he laced his fingers together, bowing his head.

She still didn't look up.

"I apologized to Mrs. Potts." He sighed. "And I owe you one too."

Tucking a ribbon between the pages, closing her book, she turned to him.

* * *

A/N: So how does this sound; Part One on Tuesday, Part Two on Wednesday? Just so we can spread all this out a little. And if you were wondering, my guide for T for Teen is always things implied and steaminess are kosher, but eschew more specific terms and fade to black when things actually get sexy. Does that work? They're young and drunk on love (particularly our prince, ten years celibate is a long time) so these two crazy kids aren't going to be chaste. They'll start cooling their jets soon enough but expect a healthy amount of amorousness. The French are after all known for their passion.

Also, I posted a companion one-shot to this story called "Two Very Small Storms". Pure fluff, big time jump, let's you see what the future holds for them! Might be worth a read if you want some cuteness in your life.

Also Also: Kudos, bookmarks, all that jazz is wonderful and appreciated and fuels my very stupid writer's ego. Want to ask questions? Tell me this is too sexy for a T rating? Having something you liked in particular? Want to talk about Ansell's hissy fit (or how it would play out in the live action, which is really where the material for this is based on)? Anything and everything can go in the comments. I'm pretty fair game.

See you tomorrow.


	15. Part Two

He felt jab to his ribs.

Belle's breathing was staggered and quick. Opening his eyes reluctantly Ansell found her facing him, pallid and sweating in her sleep. He knew the look, the fix in her brow, the way her eyes darted under their lids. The whine and the pained frown. The dream.

Awaking with a start, Belle gasped in a lungful of air. Spent and slumping as soon as she was able to realize she had just been sleeping.

"Oh, Darling." He soothed softly, knowing she was disoriented. "It's okay, it's me."

She whimpered, drowsily and reached up, cupping his jaw with her palm. Thumb rubbing against his stubbled beard, finding and gazing into the sharp blue eyes by the light of the stars.

"See? Right here." Pressing his lips to Belle's forehead the prince deftly brushed the messy hair chestnut stuck to her face out of the worried brown eyes. Hoping to quickly make her feel safe in the little cottage in Villeneuve.

"Here." She mumbled, eyes shutting, clumsily grabbing at him and settling closer. Kissing his chest, she sighed heavily. Not peaceful yet burdened.

"He's gone." Carefully, groggily, Ansell peeled her fingers off of his shoulder, using the wrist attached to guide her as he rolled over onto his back and scooted up to an incline.

"He took you." She whispered, sadly. "He took you from me."

There was a shudder in her breath as Belle pulled herself onto his bare chest, resting her head in the center. Listening to his breathing, his heartbeat. Reassurances he was flesh and blood. "I came back." He whispered, enjoying the weight of her, the arm possessively draped across him. Knowing the nightmare all too well. High up on the battlements, the crumbling of the castle, his face in the moonlight, his guns gleaming. You will marry me, that beast's head on our wall. "I'm right here." Large fingers gently massaging her back before pulling up the thick quilts, Ansell pressed his lips into her hair. "We're safe, Darling."

"I wanted you to stay."

"I came back." He tiredly realized why she was dreaming what she was. "I'll _come_ back."

"Sorry." Sinking into his warm, safe skin, Belle yawned. "Mmn."

"Don't apologize, mine's the same one." Wrapping an arm around her, Ansell exhaled and felt a kiss to his pectoral, right atop his heart. "Do you want some tea?"

Belle's head shook, which became a slow, tired nuzzle. "Love you." Fingers curling and relaxing, his darling dozed off.

"Love you too."

* * *

"What are you drawing?"

Maurice glanced up to see Ansell coming down the stairs. The young man a bit ragged, still tying back his hair.

"If you're comfortable answering of course." stifling back a yawn he went to fetch his coffee. "I don't mean to intrude, I'm just curious."

"You look tired. Everything alright?"

"Bit of a rough night." It was always difficult to fall back asleep when that particular nightmare reared its ugly head. It brought with it so many terrifying memories and thoughts. Horrid what-ifs clinging in the air, stealing the summer night away from him. Grunting tiredly, he took a long pull from his mug.

"Sorry to hear that. And I'm drawing Belle, from memory," he explained, wrist making quick, loose strokes. "Sometimes it's something from memory, sometimes it's just anything nearby. It doesn't have to be important or perfect. It's just to ready for the day. Sweep away the cobwebs so to speak."

"Sketching, painting, metal work; you're a man of many talents." Wandering over he grabbed a book on an end table and headed towards Maurice, hoping to clear his mind with some Shakespeare. "Which one did you learn first?"

"My music boxes have always been my main passion." Musing as the lad sunk into a chair, his head titled absently in thought. "My father was a watchmaker, but I could never truly appreciate the artistry. There are similarities, skills that transfer over." Maurice used long strokes to create her locks. Pressing down at different moments to shade some areas darker than others, making sure the light source made it glossy in all the right places.

"So how does painting and drawing lend to building such brilliant pieces?"

"Drawing allows you to lay out your plans. You need to know how it fits together before the pieces are even laid out." Squinting, he began working on her eyes. So sharp and smart. He had been doodling them since she was days old. "And the painting, well, it's something I've always fancied, and it can put food on the table." Not even aware he had just become comfortable with sharing, Maurice kept going. "When we were in Paris, before Belle arrived, I made my money painting portraits." Carefully, he moved from the shape of her eyes to the iris. Not too dark, nor to light. "It was good work. And her mother was a performer, a dancer for the opera. We made our way best we could. Enjoying what the city had to offer for those of us more creative individuals. I could tinker, make whatever I fancied, sell my little moving, singing pieces of art between more well-paying projects. These music boxes sell terribly; so expensive only a few want to buy, and so labor intensive they're barely worth the effort. But I've always loved them. The challenge of one."

Ansell watched Maurice's mind at work. Focused on the sketch, yet drifting into moments he cherished. Suddenly, the artist deflated in sadness.

"Now, when I took Belle and we moved to the country, portraiture work wasn't abundant." He noted, a slightly sorrowful look edging into his gentle blue eyes. "And I certainly couldn't bring an infant with colic to an estate and set her aside for hours on end. So my father's watch repairing skills came in handy. It was easy to do at home while I took care of Belle and it allowed me to find materials to practice making music boxes." Shaping her brows he purposefully made one raised, curious, mischievous. "All of the skills have come in handy, one way or another."

"When did you start taking up portraiture work again?" He asked softly. Wanting to yawn.

"When Belle was around twelve or so. She was old enough to bring and quiet enough if there was a stack of books nearby." A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "A lot of noble houses have expansive libraries, and more often than naught she was able to borrow some while I was at work. It was around that time we moved here. Close enough to Paris for work but small, safe. Not enough literature for her here though."

Ansell chuckled. "Sounds about right."

"She's so much like her mother." Maurice shook his head fondly. "Ginette used to devour novels while I'd work too."

"Was she headstrong?" The prince watched the old man's eyes light up.

"Oh, yes." A chuckle bubbled up from the artist's chest. "Stubborn and graceful and bright. Very avant-garde for her time, but it was an advantage in her career. She was the lead dancer before we had Belle." Realizing how much he was talking about his wife, Maurice glimpsed down, feeling flush.

"She sounds marvelous." Ansell encouraged soothingly. Having not even touched his book as he took in the story of where his beloved had come from.

"She was. The world is less rich without her in it." Eyes hot and stinging, he sniffled to keep the tears he refused to cry for so many years at bay. Smiling weakly as he worked on the details of the sketch. "But Belle-"

"Belle makes the world richer." The young man finished gently.

They both looked up, agreeing, smiling ever so slightly at one another.

* * *

"Cavall." Ansell greeted his steed, patting the black neck of the Andalusian. "How are you doing? Hm? Happy you have hooves again?" His old friend was adorned with an ornate, royal saddle. Leather and silver, stags and bears engraved in the rich materials. Petting the bright-eyed horse he swung himself up on the horse. Back straight, chest out, high in the stirrups. Noble, commanding. Cavall shook his long, wavy mane of jet, ever the royal horse.

"They're going to want you to hunt, lad." Mr. Potts noted. The prince's form was better; appearing far more stately up on Cavall in the past week than he had since the horse had stopped living life as a whinnying set of tack. "It's one of the great activities of the court."

"Well, I'll refuse." Brows set as a tight, low line above his eyes he exhaled stubbornly. "There is nothing more dreadful than one of those hunts. Dogs and muskets… terrifying the living daylights out of everything in the forest."

The stable master nodded his head slowly, climbing onto a mare saddled for their daily ride. "I take it you've had a few years of experience?"

He paused, thoughtfully, gauging what he wanted to share. "I know this forest like the back of my p-" He caught himself. "Hand." Looking over to the gardens, Ansell saw a very familiar blue dress walking with Lumiere.

"What did they mistake you for?" He asked carefully, watching the disdain in the prince's eyes as they started the horses towards the trail.

"A bear." He growled. "There was this one particular hunter," Taking a deep breath, feeling his heart beat a little faster, Ansell tore his eyes away from the gardens and to the mountains that had provided so much solace to his much larger form. "His hounds were terrible. They'd bay and chase you relentlessly until they had their teeth in you. And he was no better. He'd kill mothers with cubs, then sell the bear cubs or kill them if they were too small." Shaking his head, strands of golden hair fell out of their bow. Seething, lip twitching to the cruelty, he reeled in his temper. "He shot me once. I got too close to a den and he thought-" Ansell trailed off as it began to click into place. "always wore this _red coat_ " The prince remembered. "Thick black hair, violent eyes-" Stopping, realizing, he stared down at his hands. That face. That horrible, sneering face.

"Master Ansell?" Mr. Potts roused him from his memories.

"It's nothing." Ansell hedged, trying to shrug it all off. "I just hate hunts. If you're going to kill something, don't make a joyful event out of it, and don't be disrespectful." The prince slowed the proud horse. "I must confess though, hunting for food, gathering to sustain…a family-"

John Potts eyed him curiously.

"-that's a skill I'd like to learn."

John mused, the gears turning in his head at the request. The missus would most certainly want to hear about it. "You do know that's more of a commoner's trade, not a noble pastime."

"I don't have to be noble all the time, John." He hinted. "In fact, I prefer it less and less."

* * *

Belle came down the stairs, slowing her gate, mildly confused.

Her father and Ansell were both laughing over breakfast. The pair were chattering amongst themselves, Ansell sipping coffee, Maurice buttering a delectable looking pastry.

Maurice discovered Belle who was watching them silently from the bottom step. "Well good morning."

Ansell turned around in his chair, smiling mischievously with a bowl of half-eaten oatmeal sitting in front of him. There was a spoon tucked into the hot breakfast and the was meal shockingly devoid of any mess in the surrounding area. "Were your ears burning?"

Gaze narrowing at them suspiciously, it was clear Belle unsure whether or not she liked the duo being so familiar with one another.

"He's only kidding." Her father reassured, though it visibly did little. "I'm simply telling tales of my ill-gotten youth and we're arguing over Voltaire." Maurice watched her with some amusement. Belle had been keeping the castle and his house separate ever since the curse had been lifted. It had been a shrewd move; allowing her to retreat to the familiarity of the cottage and village life when she needed a break from the castle and, ultimately, the non-stop time spent with the prince. Nevertheless, with Ansell slipping into home life quite easily her specifically separate worlds were colliding. She clearly was finding some elements of the shift difficult to adjust to. And Maurice was well aware that for the courtship she was racing into to work, Belle was going to have to accept it and let both of her lives meld together.

That said, he also knew his daughter. And he knew that slightly squinting, tight-lipped look that was going between himself and His Royal Highness.

"More of a discussion." The prince corrected. "You're far too pleasant to argue with."

"He still hasn't read _Candide ou l'Optimisme_." Maurice exclaimed.

"I mean, I happened to be cursed for the last few years. It was a bit of a nuisance more than anything else but it did keep me from reading new books." Ansell reminded him jokingly. "That said, I _will_ pick up a copy when I leave the province. Bring it back to add it to Belle's library?"

It was clear she still wasn't sure if she liked them being so friendly.

Rising up Ansel grinned knowingly, eyes so puckish and blue. "We haven't swapped stories yet if that's what you're worried about." Pulling out a chair for her, he guided her over. "Though there is a looming threat of that eventually happening."

"Don't listen to him, Papa." Her lips twitched. "He's wicked, and I can tell you anything I did it was because of his horrible influence."

Ansell tried not to laugh as he stole a kiss. "Well good morning to you too. Can your wicked prince get you anything?"

* * *

Plumette was half tempted to call Belle.

Growing more frustrated by the minute, the prince was scowling as he was unable to make clean, smooth lines on the paper. The quill marks were thick, jagged, half scratched. Huffing, frowning, slouching, and muttering to himself he snorted. Lips curling as his quill suddenly broke to the unrelenting pressure of his fingers.

Plumette tensed as she could see the flash in his eyes.

"This- this IS SO-" Ansell appeared ready to hurl the quill and inkpot to the wall. However, he caught himself. Pausing, brows still furrowed, the prince took a deep breath and set the quill down. Taking a moment to calm down, Ansell untensed his jaw. Rubbing the back of his neck as he looked his work over and compared it to Plumette's elegant ABC's written at the top. Gaze flickering up at her, sheepish yet still sore about it all, he thrummed his fingers on the lacquered desk. Taking another breath and working on relaxing himself. "Sorry."

* * *

"Why don't you come?" Ansell supplied as he poured two cups of coffee. "We have to leave early, I've been told I'm being run ragged today-"

Belle rolled her eyes at her prince's dramatics as she took a bite of her bowl of summer fruit and continued to read her book.

"I saw that." He called out, walking over and handing a cup to Maurice before sitting back down. "But, we're coming back tonight. I can prepare the cart and we can take your easel and paints. Meet up at the end of the day and have dinner in the dining room?"

"You do keep saying how much you'd like to get outside for some inspiration, Papa." Belle reminded her father. "And the grounds are so beautiful right now, it's the perfect time to go out and get some fresh air." It had been an adjustment; Ansell and her father. Yet they were getting along well during their breakfasts and dinners together and she was becoming more comfortable with the two most important men in her life finding common ground.

Maurice studied the two who were looking at him expectantly, clearly wanting him to come along for the day to spend time with him. He loved having time with Belle, however, he was beginning to feel the same way about the prince. A generous and thoughtful young man, a great conversationalist when it came to books, music and art, a touch awkward, stubborn enough to match Belle (god help him), and deeply, sillily in love with his daughter. Quite the pair staring back at him. "It sounds very nice. I could use the fresh air." He agreed, noting how pleased they both were.

He really hoped this Ansell fellow could last the month away.

* * *

Belle was walking through the grand halls of the castle, book loosely held at her side as she enjoyed wandering in silence. After three months she still felt like she was finding details and nooks in Ansell's magically repaired home. Lunch had held been out in the gardens with her father painting in watercolors and then Ansell had been shepherded away afterward for another battery of lessons.

Hearing the sharp, bright notes of Cadenza's harpsichord, she followed the sound.

"One two three, one two three, one two three, now turn, master. Bow the head, yes, yes." She overheard the Madame as she got closer to the room.

"Bravissimo!"

Seeing someone else coming down the hall, her eyes quickly narrowed.

Leon walked past her, sizing her up. "Mademoiselle." He said briskly.

"Sire." She glowered threateningly, not even stopping for him.

The viscount quickly left, palpable tension flooding the hall. Having kept away from her ever since their little walk in the village that ended with her threat, he headed towards a parlor and far away from the girl who had a card or two up her sleeve.

Belle lifted her chin up and soldiered on to the ballroom, the Maestro's playing and instructing calming her.

"Good master, good." He encouraged as she strolled into the enormous doorway. Ansell was dancing, in the heels his father insisted no less, effortlessly with the Madame. He was a bit more formal than usual. Not quite the grand blue suits, but a gold waistcoat and brown velvet jacket and breeches. A season or ten out of style, his hair pulled back with a ribbon, looking so stately. As much as she liked him dressed down in the village, this other look always made her heart skip. Especially with his stubble growing in nicely.

Glancing towards the balcony, she found her father outside painting the gardens.

"Mademoiselle." Cadenza greeted her cheerily, adding a bit of a flourish to the keys. "Have you seen our prince? He glides on the dance floor now to the latest music and dances from Versailles."

Hands still on the Madame's waist as they kept going in a circle, Ansell looked over at her.

"Our prince charming is making quite the transformation." She noted, slowly making her way in. "And this transformation involves much less fur." Relishing Ansell's scowl as he kept dancing, she smiled in amusement and came over to Cadenza. "I just wanted you to know I'm so glad you're going to Versailles with him."

"We are honored." He told her brightly. "And we don't mind keeping an eye on His Highness. We just wish you could come, you would outshine them all." He beamed as she smiled back. "Would you like to learn with him?"

"I wouldn't want to steal him from his lovely dance partner." The brown eyes roamed over to the balcony once more and her lips twitched with an idea. "Actually, I'll be right back." Walking quickly across the room, she went through the open doors that were letting the cool air in.

Maurice turned away from his landscape, smiling at his happy daughter. "And what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Would you like to learn a new dance?" She asked.

Looking past her, and then at her, he slowly got up. "And why aren't you dancing with that handsome prince of yours?" Her father asked, Belle taking his hand and playfully leading him in to join the others.

"Because I don't want him to dance with me."

* * *

It was a sight that was beginning to feel natural as she came down the stairs, tucking the side of her skirts up along the way. Her father, one hand sipping coffee, the other with a piece of graphite, working on his morning sketch. Ansell across from him, eating toast and reading a letter rather intensely, the royal red wax seal dangling at the bottom of the thick parchment.

"Good morning, you two." She announced. Leaning behind her father, noticing he was sketching Ansell she smiled and rubbed his shoulder. "Looks like him. Especially the eyes."

"Thank you, and good morning." he greeted her.

"Looks like whom?" Ansell absently lifted his head from his letter as Belle took a seat.

"Nothing, what are you reading?" Reaching into the breakfast spread laid out, she took a chipped bowl covered in French blue flowers.

"Letter. It was delivered yesterday but I didn't have the time since I was working hard at not having atrocious penmanship." He explained, eyes still skimming the words carefully. "It's from my father."

"Oh." her face slackened.

"That was my initial feeling too." the prince admitted, the paper still in his hand. "But it's fairly harmless. Upset about the horses being ill, ready for my grand debut, excetera, excetera. There's one part though-"

Pausing as her stomach began to sink in concern, a reflex developed ever since the Duke came crashing into their lives, Belle looked up from her oatmeal she had been pouring a little milk into.

"My aunt Marie-Lucette is coming to court from England. Apparently she hasn't stepped foot in France for years." He told the table, explaining the situation further. "When she came of age she was married off to a Marquis, very rarely visited. And then the war happened and... well, you know."

"Oh?"

"She's my father's sister, youngest of the family." He explained keenly. "And she absolutely _hates_ him."

"So you're saying I'd like her." Belle joked.

He chuckled. "She's coming to get a good look at me, no doubt; the prodigal son. Should make for an interesting family reunion."

"Well you'll have to charm her." She told him, pushing her oatmeal around with a spoon. "Speaking of charming people, are you ready for today?"

Ansell's mouth slackened in unsurety as he folded the letter. "I suppose. Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts are treating the whole thing like a final exam. I half expect to get a grade." Looking over to Maurice, he caught the man's eye. "Wait, are you drawing me?"

* * *

 _A/N: Got my editing done early so why not post early? A lot going on in this one. But it pushes us towards the Part One finish line as our prince has one last day left._

 _Questions, comments, thoughts, concerns, things annoying you? Let me know down below. Kudos and bookmarks are also cherished._


	16. Chapter 16

"They're coming up the path." One of the footmen hollered into the servant's quarters. Everyone began to rise from the main table, jostling to their places and straightening their liveries as they readied for the day.

"I'll fetch the Madame." Plumette said, getting up.

"Our moment of truth, everyone!" Cogsworth bellowed, his cane held more like a sword and he gave his orders. "Come, come! Chapeau! Mr. Potts! This is it, the rehearsal!"

"Lumiere, I'll need your help!" Chapeau hurried to the front as the trio arrived on horseback.

"Of course! Places, everyone!" Stealing a kiss from Plumette, he followed Chapeau out the door of the servants quarters and to the front.

"Hello." Ansell smiled, walking with Belle as the stable boys took the horses and Maurice came up with his small bundle of art supplies. "Is everyone r-"

"Come now, Sire." Chapeau pulled him away from Belle, the Madame and Plumette doing the same with their Mademoiselle. "We must dress you!"

"But-"

"Come, come, Mademoiselle!" Madame ushered an equally confused Belle away from the prince. "You must ready for the day!"

Maurice stood at the top of the steps, abandoned. "Hm."

"Oh Maurice, you poor soul." Mrs. Potts waved him in. "Come on, I have the kettle on. You don't want to follow either of them, they're being primped within an inch of their lives."

* * *

"En garde!"

Belle came into the hall to see the Prince and Lumiere in their fencing habits. Their footwork quick, Lumiere effortless while Ansell worked harder to keep up. The clattering of foils, the grunts and barks of a man fighting with all he had against a man who was only using half of his own effort. There was a long row of chairs to the side as the staff that wasn't preparing for the next event played the part of the crowd.

Mrs. Potts waved her over to sit in the front. The glitter of the hall in the late morning sun filling the room. Making it a bit hotter with all of the onlookers. "Well aren't you the vision." She told the girl in the silky French blue dress.

"We're going riding next." She said, adjusting her skirt to sit comfortably. "Apparently I needed to be just shy of a ball gown."

"The ball gown will be tonight." She reassured. "But we wanted everyone to be a bit more formal since this is the dry run for his trip."

"I'm looking forward to dinner tonight," she admitted, clapping as everyone did for a point scored. "Having everyone in the castle at the table and then out in the ballroom is always such a treat. You're our family."

"You're too sweet, Dearie." The Englishwoman patted her knee.

Ansell, dripping with sweat, turned and saw his darling. Smiling brightly be bowed to her before turning back to his match for another round.

"He's doing a lot better." Someone whispered.

"I mean, he'll never best Lumiere, but he's really improved over the week." Said a scullery maid.

"He was such a bother the other day I threatened to have everyone gather around the desk and watch him write his ABCs." Mrs. Potts reported to Belle in a hushed tone.

Belle leaned forward, cautious about the news. "So you're saying his utensils… ?"

"Oh no, he's leagues better." She reassured. "But he dropped a knife and he gave me some attitude. Other than that though, his temper has drastically improved."

"Good." Belle sighed with relief. "That seems to be the case across the board."

"You know," Mrs. Potts began carefully. "Mr. Potts was telling me he had a very interesting conversation with the Prince. He was saying they were talking about him learning some commoner trades that could support a family."

Belle turned her head slowly to meet the housemaid's intrigued expression.

"We both thought that was little interesting, especially since he's been favoring the village lately." She watched the girl's face. That touch of nervousness edging into her eyes as she swallowed thickly. The little furrow in her brow, mind carefully choosing her next words.

The brown eyes cast down for a second. "Can we talk about this after he leaves? I want to focus on his review and sending him off." She said quietly, rolling her lips into her mouth.

"Of course, Dearie."

* * *

"Your Highness." Belle bowed slightly as she took the arm presented to her.

"Mademoiselle, you are a vision," Ansell said in his riding attire. Stately, tall, proud, blue eyes so smitten with her. A bit out of breath as he had just returned from a ride with John, he guided her. "Chef's packed a luncheon. I thought we might ride out to one of our favorite locations? The meadow out near the lake seeing as it's nice and warm out."

"I think that sounds like a wonderful idea." She smiled as they headed down the steps to the waiting horses. "Did you know gold is a good color on you?"

"I'll have to remember." a little smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he let go and went to Cavall.

"Let me know how he does." Mr. Potts told Belle as he held her palomino for her. "He's leagues better, but I want your opinion."

"Of course." She agreed.

"Have fun." Patting the horse's neck, he let go. "But no racing, don't think I don't know who instigates that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She responded cheekily. " But yes, I'll be good." They trotted out down the path, the sky as blue as his eyes, the sun warm and bright, birds trilling. The colors, he had forgotten how lovely the colors of summer were. Years of winter had steeped him in grays and blues, making him marvel from time to time at the vibrancy of the unenchanted seasons.

"They're really going all out today," Ansell noted.

"Well, you leave tomorrow. Everyone wants to make sure you're ready." She mentioned, not wanting to remind herself he was leaving in the morning. It hurt too much, it drained her energy.

Ansell sighed but kept the form of a nobleman, gaze wandering as the trees dappled the sunlight. Pausing in the saddle, he caught the look Belle had.

She smirked, adjusting her grip on the reins, glancing over her shoulder to check and see if they could be watched.

"Belle-"

Her eyes met his, so breathtaking in her mischievousness as she leaned forward.

"Belle, _no._ " He grinned, wanting to laugh at her. "What happened to not racing?"

"Oh come on, don't be a spoilsport." Belle spurred the horse. "Or slow!" Skirts billowing back behind her, the handsome prince left in the dust.

Furrowing his brow, he smiled and shook his head. "Oh, you-" He let Cavall loose, and they were off. Hooves churning the damp earth, manes whipping behind them, doing their damnedest to clear wet logs and splash through shimmering creeks. The forest a blur of evergreens and ferns. Finally, they broke through the brush to the meadow and Belle was at the center. Smugly triumphant was his love. Sun on her cheeks, back straight and proud, breeze toying with her brown locks, late wildflowers dipping and dancing around her horse. "You can't win if you have a head start!"

"Who said this was a race?" Belle watched him bring his steed up to the spot and dismount before her. "I was just faster."

"You're a dirty cheat!" taking a blanket out of his saddlebag, he shook it out, draping it across the verdant grass. "Why do I associate with rule breakers?"

"His Highness is such a sore loser." Setting the picnic basket down, she carefully took a seat and patted the spot next to her. He reluctantly, unceremoniously, plopped onto the ground. Laughter erupted from her, and she stole a kiss. Tugging on the double breasted lapels to bring him closer, to kiss him more deeply. Wishing to kiss him every day for the next month.

"I guess I can get over it." He grinned at her lovely mouth, sliding an arm around her waist. "How am I going to live without your feisty smile and playful ways?" The Prince pressed his lips to her forehead. "I'm going to be positively ravenous for attention when I return."

"You won't be the only one." She sighed. A silence coming over them in the meadow. They held hands, looking out over the flowers and mountains until they took out the food. Laying out the modest spread and beginning to eat.

"I think we should see a concert when we go to Verona for your birthday," Ansell finally announced, pouring some wine from a bladder into a cup.

Belle looked up from the small, delicate sandwiches she had on a plate.

"I mean, whatever your heart desires of course, but I'd love to take you to a concert. I keep hearing about them." He mused, passing the cup over. "Maybe after that, the next one could be an opera in Paris? Florence of course, we need to see the artwork. That, and I'd want to take you to dinner. The food is so good in Italy." Rambling, smiling, he loved watching her reaction to all of the possibilities. She was grinning from ear to ear. It made his heart skip.

"And we could always go back and see another play in London." She suggested cheerily.

"And I don't know about you but I'll need some chocolates so we'll _have_ to go to Belgium."

"Then there's Rome… And Spain, I've always wanted to go to Madrid… Oo! What about Austria?" Belle was animated, alive at the thought of their adventures. So thankful she finally had someone who wanted to enjoy culture and traveling as much as she did. "An opera or a concert in Vienna? That would be so amazing."

"Oh, most definitely. Of course, we'll be touristy and see the sights, but plays and operas and concerts and dances in each city? Plus the food? That just sounds like so much fun." He exclaimed, blue eyes bright as he was doing his damnedest to not think about the next day. "We're going to exhaust ourselves with travel."

Belle blushed, giggling at his enthusiasm. "That sounds incredibly fun and the perfect way to exhaust ourselves." Reaching out she clinked her glass to his. She watched him, tall and handsome, so eager to whisk her away to adventure in the great wide somewhere. "Especially with you. I think I've dreamed about going to all of those places. And going to all of those shows… That play at the Globe? That was the first time I've ever dressed up and gone to one."

"Really?" He was shocked, but then again, he felt he didn't need to be. Her life had been so different before they had met.

"I've snuck into a few when we've gone to Paris for work, but I've had to hide." She shrugged, not terribly sad about it, but wanting for more than just sneaking around. "Small plays though, I've never been to an opera. A friend once smuggled me into the eaves of a theater for a concert."

"Well, we won't be smuggled in." He reassured. "We'll have tickets for good seats. And there'll be dinners and dancing until we need to go home."

"Verona." Belle took a deep breath, excited at the idea of her birthday in such a lovely city.

"Verona, and so much more." He smiled at the thought.

* * *

Belle had insisted between riding and dinner that they have one last lazy afternoon in the library before Ansell was sent off. After a long lunch and ride, they changed into loungewear and took to their favorite room. Originally the pair began in the library by walking around. Discussing books they were interested in, talking opinions, teasing. Eventually, it moved to quiet reading on the couch. Then Ansell put his feet up and stretched out on the long, wide couch covered in fleur-de-lis and Belle found herself between his legs, laying back against his chest. It was chaste enough to allow them to actually make progress on their respective books. However, every once in a while he would rub a hand across her chest or belly and kiss the back of her head. It slowly increased in frequency, his hands wandering elsewhere, lips roaming as well. Finally, she turned and kissed an arm, rotating her head as he dipped forward to meet her mouth. Tired and warm, she set her book down and angled herself on her side to nuzzle his chest. Unable to fathom about not having him there to keep her warm and loved.

"Hmn." Setting his book on the table, he threw an arm around Belle as she nuzzled under his chin. Feeling her lips press against his neck slowly, gingerly. "And what are we thinking?"

Splaying her fingers out across the strong chest she sighed wistfully. "How much I want you here." The security of their library providing a bit of comfort. "Your warmth, your voice, your touch, your exasperating brattiness."

Ansell laughed.

"How much you tease me into annoyance." She grinned impishly. "How you curl your lip and snarl a little when we fight."

"And, I'm going to have to shave." He reminded her. "I saw Chapeau sharpening the blade, the beloved beard is not long for this world."

"Ugggh." Shaking her head, she closed her eyes. "You'll have to grow it back immediately."

"And you're such a prize of perfection." Goading her, the prince rubbed soothing circles onto the petite back. "Never exhaustingly stubborn or a tease. Never having to be _so right_ about a book. _Never_ shoving your icy cold feet onto my legs at night. "

"Oh really, Prince Charming?"

"I promise I'll be turning my charming down when I'm away."

She chuckled. "You know, speaking of charming, if I were to string together all of the comments I've heard from the last couple of months, I'd think the former you was quite the Lothario."

Blue eyes going wide with suspicion, he stopped rubbing her back.

"And quite the exhibitionist at that."

Clearing his throat, his arms became limp as she gently pushed them away. Belle turned, sitting on his leg, staring at him thoughtfully. He looked at her sheepishly. "Well… yes?"

Not enjoying the conversation herself but clearly needing to get it out of her mind, she gazed down at her hands. "I'm beginning believe you were an awful lot like your brother, just… meaner."

Ansell's face was turning pale. "I uh-"

"Had quite the reputation?"

Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes tight. Wondering how they had gone from sleepy, possibly a prelude to lovemaking cuddling, to a serious conversation about his former love life. "Alright, you would have hated me," Ansell confessed. "I was mean, greedy, vain, and entitled. All cruel wit and pursuer of the seven sins. I was… this monster in really expensive clothes." Finally looking at her the Prince furrowed his brows. "Belle, why is this coming up now?"

Her fingers idly played with her hair. "Because it's been brought up so often. You don't think I hear every joke about finding you in a compromising position, or wooing girls, or the expectations at court?" Frowning, shaking her head she pressed on. "I've just been trying to piece together who you were before and what your father wants."

"I don't want that." His voice was sorrowful, head sinking. "It's a loveless life."

"I don't want it for you either." Belle agreed. "I certainly wouldn't tolerate any of it. I'm just asking because I want to know what _we're_ up against. And I'm not here to shame you for your love life. It just gets hinted at quite a bit and I'm trying to parse out where we are before you leave."

"I've never loved anyone. That wasn't love, it was lust. "For he had no love in his heart." He recited, reaching out and touching her cheek. "Until you. That's where we are, Belle."

Reaching up, she cupped the fingers caressing her, kissing his wrist. "I've never loved either."

Leaning forward he took her arms and gently pulled her forward as he sat up and closed the gap between them. "And I have never relished someone like this." Assisting her so her legs fell to his side and she was straddling him. "I'm so hopelessly in love with every inch of you." He kissed. "And I don't care what everyone else expects, I just want you and you alone. Title or not. I'd give up all the jewels in the world."

Lacing her fingers around his neck, she shut her eyes as he rolled his thumb in circles over her waist. She had so much doubt that she couldn't show him. It was hard to not worry about his anxiety and temper, which his family knew how to play like a fiddle. It was hard not to think about this past as a Lothario and her own confusing feelings on that whole mess. But even past all of that, who was she going to talk to? About serious things, about silly things, about simple things, about nothing at all? And there was no other body she even remotely desired to feel nor one that excited her.

He hated all of the turmoil he could see her taking on. "I promise, you're the only one I want and the only one I'll have." The prince whispered. "Where we are? It's where I'm deeply, madly in love with you, Darling." Turning his head, he kissed passionately her as her hands wandered to the sides of his face. "God I love you so much." He breathed, coming up for air as she grasped the hem of his shirt and helped him out of it. The two frantically stripping to feel one another and soften the encroaching loneliness.

* * *

Maurice smoothed his waistcoat as Belle and Ansell approached the dining room. Most of the staff were in their finest and the kitchen had prepared a succulent three-course meal. The entire room standing, waiting, looking at them expectantly.

It was hard not so beam at the two coming into the room, Cogsworth announcing Ansell to get him accustomed to such formalities. They were both stunning and Belle, his rather practical daughter, was a glowing princess next to a charming prince. A far cry from the two of them dressed casually in the cottage, at ease in the roles they were growing into as a family. It was hard to imagine either of them leaving that for Ansell's royal birthright. The Duke and Duchess, members of the Royal Court, bound to formalities and expectations. After spending so much time with the two, his two as he was beginning to accept with Ansell, and how they acted together he couldn't see that future for his whip-smart daughter and her dear tender-hearted herbalist.

Lips quirking, Maurice watched as Ansell went to the head of the table by himself and Belle walked to the opposite end to sit on the side. Taking a seat, Maurice turned to his dining companion to the left. "Is that your doing?"

Mrs. Potts chuckled as the footmen came around with the first course. "Of course. He needs to be able to converse and eat without lookin' at Belle for direction. Half the time he's in a room full of people he's just making eyes at her."

"Also keeps them from distracting one another." Her husband said knowingly on the other side of her.

"Yes, they're rather…" Maurice mulled it over "fond of touching."

"I suppose that's one way of putting it." The Englishwoman quipped.

A serving spoon clattered.

Everyone froze.

Belle leaned out to get a better look.

"It was just me!" Lumiere reassured, brandishing the silverware.

* * *

Belle pulled at her gloves at the top of the staircase. After being found by her lady's maid sleepily sprawled across Ansell's chest in the library, naked and guarded only by a blanket as they quietly talked about their hopes and fears whilst necking after sex, Belle had been scrubbed down, redressed, sent to dinner, then redressed again before being deposited at the top of the stairs. It was hard not to feel like a child's doll, constantly being brushed and primped and dressed. The idea of being at court and changing wardrobes several times throughout the day sounded dreadful.

The thought, however, disappeared as Ansell emerged and straightened his cravat, a sign of his nervousness, and took his place at the opposite side of the grand staircase. A dusty rose suit with silver and pastel green embroidery and beading and a pale blue waistcoat fit him magnificently. The beard had been replaced by makeup, his hair tucked under a cascading wig. Strong, straight-backed and noble, but when his eyes found hers, he broke into the slightest smile.

She came down in a shimmering pale blue ball gown with embroidery to match his. Chestnut hair braided up, a touch of jewelry, just bit of rouge on her lips to make them all the more desirable. And those big, smart brown eyes sparkling up at him, aglow in the candlelight that flooded the castle with a golden hue.

He felt so weak.

Maestro began playing as they descended. The staff and her father wore their best, awaiting their arrival.

"Mademoiselle." He bowed.

"Your Grace." She curtsied.

"Shall we dance, My Love?" Ansell offered a palm, taking her hand, guiding her towards the room.

Belle carefully gathered her skirt. "I'd be delighted, My Prince."

* * *

"Belle?"

Belle turned from watching Ansell dance with Plumette to find the Maestro and the Madame next to her. They were taking a break, the small orchestra playing on and carefully following a piece Cadenza had chosen.

"We just wanted to see you." The Madame folded the girl in her arms, drawing Belle to her bosom, ignoring how Belle took it all with a touch of awkwardness to being drawn to said bosoms and their plunging neckline. "We know we must leave early in the morning for Versailles and I told the Maestro you'll be preoccupied with the prince once we finish dancing. We remember such nights ourselves."

"You say that as if it were in the past tense." Cadenza raised a brow to his wife, Belle still being hugged by her and missing his innuendo. "But, we wanted to see you in case we didn't get a proper goodbye."

"I'm going to miss you two so very much," Belle said, hugging the Madame back. "You fill this house with so much music and joy. And Madame I don't know if I would ever look as stylish as I have without your help."

"We'll return, we'll return," Gardenrobe reassured, planting an affectionate kiss on Belle's cheek. "But we love you and we'll miss you. We'll watch over the prince, we promise."

"I'm glad some of his family is coming along." Finally extracting herself from Madame's warm, bead encrusted bodice, she turned to Maestro. Squeezing him tightly, shutting her eyes. "I hope this leads to bigger things for both of you, but I am rather selfish and hope you can at least return for Noel."

Eyes flying open, Cadenza pulled away to get a good look at her. "Noel?" He asked excitedly.

"The first one since the curse broke." She hinted.

"Did someone say, Noel?" Lumiere had suddenly appeared as if the word was all that was needed to summon him.

"Oh yes." She told the castle's consummate performers, eyes sparkling with plans. "I think it needs to be big."

The Madame clutched her chest. " _Grand."_

"With the finest music!" The Maestro cupped Belle's face in adoration to the thought.

"The grandest!" Lumiere grinned at Belle, sweeping her away from Cadenza.

"Grander than the celebration banquet. And the whole village invited again." She smiled. "Do you think you can manage?"

"Oh, Ma Cherie, you do like giving me a challenge!" He beamed, spinning Belle and making her giggle. "Have I ever told you that you're the finest conspirator?"

"Well, there's only one person I know who can help me pull it off, Monsieur." Giving him a mischievous eyebrow. "It hasn't been celebrated in ten years. We have to make up for that."

"I'll be scheming while I'm away with the Master." He wagged his own brows, pulling her close as if to dance in the hall. "And I'll return with plans for the most opulent, most joyous Noel ball France has ever seen! Even Versailles will be jealous."

"I knew I could count on you." She kissed his cheek.

"And count us in!" Cadenza announced as he scooped up Froufrou. "Wherever we are, we'll make time to return."

"We must!" Gardenrobe sang.

"When you have a moment alone with Ansell, talk to him," Belle told her partner in crime.

"He knows? Oh, we can buy supplies in Paris!"

"That's what I was thinking-"

"What on earth?"

They all turned to Cogsworth's suspicious eyes gleaming from behind his monocle.

"It's nothing, Cogsworth," Lumiere reassured unconvincingly with Belle's arm hooked about his waist. Sliding a hand behind his back, he crossed his fingers.

"You better not be conspiring." He grumbled. "I barely got over the last gala!"

Belle bit her lip, trying not to break into laughter. "No of course not."

* * *

Belle sighed, her feet aching as they had danced the night away. They were in bed, exhausted, oddly neither in the mood. That particular fact frustrating for them both as they had been ravenously so ever since they had gotten back together. The joy of the ballroom had dissipated quickly, and the long stretch of his trip was suddenly laid in front of them like a black storm cloud slowly rolling in. It would rob them of the happy memories of that day until the night they married in winter. A period of time that would be a small respite where they could look back on some of the fonder moments of what had been trying months. As she laid on her side, staring into his half awake eyes, she saw the melancholy. Pressing a kiss to his nose, Belle settled in closer.

"I don't want to go tomorrow." He muttered forlornly under his rattling breath. Reaching out, he tiredly brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face.

"I don't want you to leave either." His eyes were so sad, so heartbreakingly lonely already. The lids pink with threatening tears that pooled in the corners. She felt frighteningly protective of him. Wanting to go with him to Versailles and help him navigate the dangerous halls of the palace. "But I've got you for now," Belle reassured with a kiss.

"I can't sleep." He told her heavily. "Would it bother you if I read?"

"Of course not. Do you want to read to me?" She asked, hopeful for a yes. "I'd really like to hear your voice."

Smiling sadly, he nodded his head and got up to light candles and grab the copy of their favorite sonnets. "Let's take turns." As soon as he was back in bed, she snuggled up to him and he loved it so much it hurt. Thumbing through the pages, he enjoyed the weight on his shoulder, an arm around his waist, the other palm on his stomach, rubbing his belly slowly. The brown eyes closing to his dulcet tones as he began. "Let those who are in favor with their stars-"

* * *

Ansell looked at himself in the mirror.

Exhausted from a fitful night of more poetry than sleep, he was in full princely regalia. Heels, stockings, silks, sash, makeup, and wig. The nobleman frowned at the look, blue eyes already listless.

Belle came over, gazing into the mirror with him.

"I look utterly idiotic." He muttered, stomach sick with knots. How was he supposed to not only leave her but pretend he was something he wasn't?

Stepping to the side, she stood behind him and wrapped her arms about his waist. "You look like a prince at Versailles." pressing her lips to the silk shoulder, she breathed him in. Wishing she could bottle the scent of him and keep it for the month. Just the smell alone was soothing and safe, she would miss it so much.

"That's the last thing I want to be now." He replied forlornly. Placing his hands on the small ones that held him so protectively. "Princes and farm girls don't go together in their eyes."

"A month." She reassured, stepping around to the front, reaching up and gathering his face gently in her hands, kissing him lovingly. "It's just a month, Dearest." She whispered, shutting her eyes as his forehead rested against her own. "And I'll be here waiting for you to return."

"You shouldn't have to wait in the first place." Kissing the tip of her nose, he reached up and stroked a curl of hair out of her face.

"We're going to get through this, just like everything else." she hooked her hands around his waist, running her palms up and down the length of his sides.

"I don't deserve you." He sighed, staring into her eyes. Mon Dieu, he would miss them so much.

"Don't say that." Pressing her face against his chest, she once more breathed deeply to remember his smell. Not wanting to let him go, he needed to be in her arms. He needed to be safe in her arms.

"Anyone else would have just kept running." Pulling away, he went to an armoire and opened a drawer. Producing a large box secured with a ribbon.

Belle looked what was being brought to her. "And what's this?"

"Why don't you open it and find out." he smiled, handing it over. Trying to be excited instead of sad.

Pulling the ribbon off, setting it on a table, she opened the box and stared down curiously. A wide leather belt with pouches, hooks, and loops under it. She furrowed her brows. Talking it out, looking at how she could slide all of the accessories on and adjust it to her needs, she gazed up at him excitedly.

"The Craftsman gave me the funniest look when I said I wanted a tool belt fashioned for a woman and it needed little flowers on it." He explained. "However, I couldn't get over our talk about supporting each other's interests."

Running her fingers over the brown leather, studying how fine the work was, she beamed. "It's perfect. Thank you so much."

Going over Ansell slipped a hand around her waist and pressed a kiss into her hair. Sighing, burying his nose in so he couldn't forget her scent while he was away. He didn't know how he was going to sleep without the smell of her all over the sheets.

"Wait," She told him softly, taking a small parcel out of one of her pockets. Pressing it into his hands she watched intently as he let go and opened it.

A notebook. Running his fingers over the leather, he thumbed through the pages, turning back to the first page. A small rose blossom pressed to it, Belle's neat handwriting having written down the scientific name, where it grew, what uses it had.

"We support each other's interests," Belle told him lovingly as she enjoyed the happy grin that broke out over his face. She had missed that grin so much, she hadn't seen it all morning.

They kissed, hugging and holding each other tightly. Breaths shuddering, feeling sorrowful and scared.

"Master," Cogsworth called out "it's time."

Taking his hand, Belle walked Ansell down the stairs. Silently they looked at the row of staff waiting at the base of them. Ansell hugged them all, melancholy hanging thick in the air. Through the heavy front doors, he gazed out to see the carriage, Leon already in it and waiting. Lumiere, Chapeau, Cadenza and the Madame in the one behind.

Turning back he was standing in front of Maurice. Smiling tentatively, extending a hand out for a firm shake. The artist grabbed his hand and pulled him into a strong hug, stunning Ansell. He hugged back until Maurice let go and was stunned once more when the artist put a hand on his shoulder and patted his cheek lightly as if he was sending off his own son. "We'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too." Nodding his head slowly, smiling, he turned to Belle, taking a moment to grasp her hands and gaze into her eyes. "I love you." He breathed.

-End Part One-

* * *

 _A/N: I know, there are PARTS. Multiple, pieces. All planned out, by the way, so we're not flying blind here. This was probably the longest one because there was so much dang setup because… I am a glutton for narrative punishment. Also, we needed to see some important things_

 _Now, Part One Bonus Material for those who want a deep dive._

 _-Anselme/Ansell: God it took so long to find a name that sounded like Adam but was French that also could also sound noble yet be used more casually._

 _-The Duke: Late 90's/Early 00's Jeremy Irons. Because there's villain and then there's full Shakespearian Lion Villain._

 _-I have no idea for casting Leon. He's an impeccably dressed dandy and a world class asshole, which often makes me think of The Chevalier from the show Versailles. But, like, not amazingly catty and gay._

 _-Honest to god, Part One took so long because I wanted to establish the relationship and show you why we're rooting for them. Not just because they're the Prince and the Beast from the movie so we automatically are on their side, but because fleshing them out shows they're good for each other and their romance is believable._

 _-The foundation of Ansell's personality is actually based on Belle's first verse in "Something There"._

 _-There was a massive amount of S1/S2 Downton Abby (on top of both BatB movies) that happened while writing dialog. Because Matthew Crawley is well spoken but also kind of an endearingly awkward, overdramatic, yet well-intentioned dork._

 _-France was incredibly classist during this time. There were three estates: Nobles, Clergy, Commoners. Nobility and Clergy paid very few taxes and Commoners were heavily taxed. Nobles and Commoners didn't mix, and even a maîtresse-en-titre (chief mistress) was supposed to be a noble woman. A relationship with a common woman outside of her being a prostitute you were using was not kosher. Hence, our drama._

 _-Belle understood all of Titus Andronicus when she saw the play in London. It was, obviously, performed in English._

 _-The Duke vs. Belle's lesson plans were an important contrast in showing how both had incredibly different outcomes due to teaching styles._

 _-The Vaguely Mentioned War We Kind Of Dance Around: is the Seven Years War. TLDR: England and France were the main players and the two world superpowers at the time, and England crushed France. It's a good read._

 _-Gaston was a Captain in the Seven Years War. At least here._

 _-In Chapter Twelve during the bath, Ansell recites to Belle a part of the play As You Like It._

 _-Herbalists were typically women or monks. Which, was why Ansell was reluctant to show his interests. However, Belle accepting gender norms isn't really a thing._

 _-The entire foundation for Belle and Ansell's relationship is in Chapter Twelve. "I'll always support your interests" and "neither of them were terribly traditional"._

 _-Belle's walk through town with Leon was important because it shows how threatening he is by forcing her into the situation, but Belle isn't rescued by anyone despite multiple men ready to do so. She takes back her own agency._

 _-Maurice doesn't get a lot of scene time but I've always considered him a package deal with Belle. Being protective as he is, he's want to get to know the guy who he kinda had to accept quickly while being locked in a wagon and then adjust to actually being a human his daughter was in love with._

 _-"Vorte beau? Votre bête." Your Beau? Your Beast._

 _-Ansell and Maurice bonding and finding common ground was/is one of my favorite things because it starts out as Ansell trying to make a good impression. Yet as Ansell lacks a father figure and while he and Belle both lost their mothers, Maurice is the complete opposite of The Duke. And Ansell wants that kind of love and validation, even if he doesn't know it._

 _-Ansell's horse is named Cavall after King Arthur's favorite hunting hound and is an Andalusian as back in the day Spanish horses were all the rage for nobility._

 _-My god, I finally got to tease AUNT LUCETTE. But, I can't tell you anything. :_

 _-There is - y- a wedding in winter. I wasn't yanking your chain there. I wrote it already. It's cuuuuute AF._

 _-I wrote a lot of cute shit already and half of it isn't going to make it in here. But, maybe oneshots/asides ala Two Very Small Storms?_

 _-The Sonnet Ansell begins to read to Belle towards the end of Chapter Sixteen is Sonnet 25._

 _We're going to take a week off for Fourth of July so I can eat a lot of barbeque and recover from writing. But after that, Part Two._

 _THANK YOU for sticking around this long. I hope I can continue to entertain everyone. Any questions, comments, dislikes, likes, let me know below._

 _See you in two weeks._


	17. Chapter 17

"ANSELME."

Ansell sighed, standing in place as Chapeau brushed the back of his jacket. His apartment at Versailles put his royal chambers back home to shame. Everything was dripping with gold and jewels, shimmering with mirrors, saturated in luxury that had been brought in from all over the world. It was so blisteringly decadent, so hideously lonely. "Do you think he could be more infuriating?" He muttered to the valet as Lumiere opened the door and his father walked in.

"Boy, why are you taking so long? The party is in your honor." The Duke pressed, looking his son over in the black and gold affair he had on. "That's what you chose? Fine. As long as you're acceptable for court I suppose."

Leon stuck his head in, aglow he was back in court after weeks in that dreadful province and nearly two whole days in a carriage with his most insufferable brother. "Anselme, there's a fountain of wine in your honor. A _fountain."_ Pausing, he smiled in amusement towards the prince's pain. "There's a dinner going on in which you're the center of attention. Why on god's earth do you look like someone shot your cat?"

"Well… I mean-" Ansell muttered under his breath.

"You were ten and it was an honest mistake." The Viscount dismissed "Didn't I apologize profusely and buy you a new one? I was upset myself."

Ansell rolled his eyes as Chapeau fitted him with a wig, carefully tucking the golden hair under. Versailles was built on a bloody swamp, and with the late summer humidity, he could already feel the heat building under the damned thing. Turning, he gave Lumiere the most plaintive look. As if his friend could somehow put him out of his misery. "I still haven't seen Francis."

"He just arrived by carriage." The eldest son explained. "Aunt Marie-Lucette also just arrived, and Uncle Hugon, Aunt Marie-Therese and cousin Julien are already in the room."

"Oh good, more people to gawk at me."

"Come, boy, come." The Duke huffed, looking him over disapprovingly as he leaned on his cane.

"You know, Father, maybe you should just put me in the menagerie. It'd make it easier for everyone to stare and I'm willing to bet good money I'd get on well with the tigers."

His father was not amused, yet felt the quip wasn't worth the energy to cuff him upside the head. Ushering his sons out, the Duke made his way through the maze of the palace in long, purposeful strides. Cane clicking against the marble floors with each step. "Thank god you're not being presented tonight. You look absolutely despondent."

"He looks heartbroken to me." Leon chimed as they walked abreast, Lumiere and Chapeau shadowing as Ansell's chosen help.

Ansell shot his brother the most scathing of looks. Adjusting his cravat, straightening his jacket, he took a deep breath to steady himself. Imagining how much easier it would be with Belle on his elbow. Her wits making her an easy conversationalist in a room of rich people who had nothing more to do than absorb art, culture, and other people's opinions. "The King's not going to be there?"

"The King has had a bout of melancholy ever since the maîtresse-en-titre passed away," Leon explained shrewdly. "His Grace rarely shows his face outside of the royal chambers these days."

"Lord knows why His Highness can't get over it." Their father grumbled peevishly. "We all know he still visits Parc-aux-Cerfs. He's not going without his needs met."

"I heard the Dauphin passed away too," Ansell noted grimly. "Two people you love in short succession; I can't even fathom the heartache."

"Yes, it's all very sad, but His Majesty has been blessed with a line of proper heirs." Smiling at the company coming down the hall, the Duke gestured to a young woman who appeared near Belle's age. Primped and powdered, she shuffled over in her ridiculous lavender dress. She was a vision, an over-coiffed angel. "Mon petit chou."

"Mon Duc!" She chirped, taking his hand before purring far more coquettishly at the Duke. "Mon loup." turning to Ansell, effortless and full of grace she beamed. "Is this your son? What a strapping one he is."

"Anselme, this is Madame Laflèche." The Duke preened. "Madame, Prince Anselme."

"Charmed, Madame." Ansell took her hand and kissed it, noticing how loose the maîtresse-en-titre's corset was. "It is nice to meet the beauty who keeps my father's company."

"It is an honor to meet his heir." Laflèche curtseyed. "Mon Duc has told me so much about you."

"I'm sure all good things." He quipped dryly, glancing over her shoulder and to the gentleman walking quickly towards them. "Francis?"

"There you are!" He was older than Ansell remembered, but, then again they were all older. He hadn't matured like the rest of the world and now little Francis appeared to be his senior. "Mon Dieu, Anselme!"

Ansell was crushed into a hug and reluctantly gave one in return.

"You've… well, how odd you _have_ aged. But not like the rest of us." Francis pulled back and clapped a hand over the prince's cheek. "But you're certainly not thirty-one. Nor twenty-one. Aren't you a strange one."

"Somewhere in the middle, I suppose." He swallowed, not wanting to really dwell on the eccentric side effects of being cursed not as unaging houseware but rather an animal of flesh and blood not immune entirely to time nor the elements. Suddenly, Ansell wanted that fountain of wine.

Chapeau and Lumiere both tensely watched from afar as one watches a nervous dog getting its ears yanked by a child.

"Lord, you're thicker now." Patting his brother's shoulders, he let him go and they all resumed walking towards the room. "After ten years, you must be dying to get into a little trouble? Prendre quelqu'un?" He wagged his brows.

"Not… really." The heir said awkwardly, watching his brothers' faces fall. "May we carry on? The party is for me after all." Suddenly feeling anxious, wanting to disappear Ansell squeezed a hand into a fist. Wanting so badly to be far away from his gilded cage. Yearning for a little cottage in a little provincial town, where he was himself. Where he was home.

They entered the room for the party; the Maestro directing a small orchestra, the Madame crooning, nobles in their finest milling about, pecking at the over the top spread of savory meats and decadent pastries. The whole affair magnificently gaudy and worthy of the prince Ansell had been ten years before. Bravely, he slipped into the space, escaping his father's side and hunting for some wine.

"My dear nephew."

Ansell turned to see the barrel-chested man with the over-waxed mustache pulled upwards at attention as he grinned unnervingly. "Uncle Hugon?"

"Well now, some of us have aged." He chuckled, medals for combat jangling on his chest. "You look good, Your Grace-"

"Please, Ansell will suffice."

"Prince Anselme!" He watched a rather large woman and a stuffy young man come over. Bowing, making him feel so awkward and yet as if he were prey at the same time.

Marveling at the two, he beamed. "Aunt Aunt Marie-Therese? Julien?"

"You do remember us!" The woman smiled, her neckline so low it frightened her nephew.

"Julien was three last time I saw him." He looked the young man up and down, sharp dark blue eyes, a resting frown, dressed like a peacock. "How are you all? It's been years."

"Well, well. The outcome of the war was dreadful but I did see some of the action." His uncle huffed, pleased with himself. "Dare say our lives have been boring compared to yours."

The Prince's stomach churned as he began to feel like a curiosity. "Well, actually it was pretty boring. I just kind of… moped a lot, I suppose." Reaching for the words, but not wanting to give away his more animalistic ventures, Ansell became a touch pallid even under all the makeup. "But I'm looking forward to catching up-"

"Did you hunt and eat things like a lion?" Julien asked shortly.

Furrowing his brows, he tensed. Blue eyes blazing at his relative. " _Excuse me_?"

"They said you spent ten years naked in the forest, killing men, howling at the moon, living like an animal." The young man, prone to getting his way and having everyone answer to him, looked the cousin he didn't remember over shrewdly.

"Julien!" Hugon cuffed him upside the head.

"It's a legitimate question!" The boy barked impetuously. Unafraid of his parents.

Taking a deep breath, wanting to hide, Ansell took a goblet of wine from a server's tray.

"I heard you killed an Army Captaine and you _ate him alive._ " Julien exclaimed, his eyes wicked with morbid curiosity.

The golden head tilted to the side, jaw twitching.

" _Son."_

"I want to know! It's all anyone talks about." Huffing, he held his chin up stubbornly. Foolishly oblivious to his cousin's rather restrained yet still aggressive body language.

"I wasn't an animal." The corner of his lip curled ever so slightly. Suddenly looking much bigger to his aunt and uncle. "I was cursed of the body, not of the mind. There. Is. A. _Difference_."

Julien, unamused and ignoring the growl the last word had been said with, scowled and complained as his mother shepherded him away.

"You'll have to excuse the lad." Hugon said stiffly, quickly, nervously. "He's just fascinated is all."

"It seems everyone is," Ansell grumbled, looking over to his shoulder that was getting an overly-friendly pat from the relative.

"We'll talk later, I don't wish to take up all your time."

Taking a deep breath to relax, he nodded his head. Speaking tightly and failing to lie. "It was a pleasure talking to you, Uncle. I look forward to seeing you at court."

Stepping away, Hugon went to his family in the corner, whispering harshly. "You stupid little boy!"

"Well everyone's saying it!" Julien hissed under his breath. "I want to know if it's all true. Do you really think he ate that Captaine? Captaine Gaston?"

"If you don't shut up, we'll never get you on the throne!" Marie-Therese chastised. "Isn't that what you want, my boy? To be Duke?"

* * *

The Duke sidled up to Leon, casually sipping his brandy. "I know you needed to rest from your travels, however, I think a few days chest deep in Parisian girls is enough time." He spoke softly. "I want my full report, Leon."

"And you'll have it, Father." He narrowed his eyes at the prince talking cordially to a count. "You'll have every little detail. I promise. After the party, let's catch up."

"Let's catch up now." Gesturing for his valet to come over, he whispered his orders and signaled for his eldest to follow.

* * *

Ansell had made his rounds, talking pleasantly with everyone at the party. Flashing a smile, laughing at so many idiotic jokes, barely wincing through several rather handsy countesses. Sinking away from the throngs of nobility the heir apparent watched the court converge on the food and wine like fat bright chickens at a loaf of bread. Listening and enjoying the Madame and Maestro filled the hall with breathtaking songs as he observed the others so privileged and oblivious. Mulling over how this particular class of people lived and acted compared to the others. Stealthily, Prince Anselme moved to a corner and imagined a warm fire, his newest book, and a farm girl reading in the chair across from him.

"And what are you thinking, my Prince?"

Turning, he saw his aunt. Dressed magnificently, her dark hair piled atop her head in a heap of ringlets. The makeup of an Englishwoman, the fashion of a Frenchwoman. Dark brown eyes sharp and quick as she curtseyed to him. "Prince Anselme, it's an honor to see you after all these years."

"Aunt Marie-Lucette, please. The pleasure is all mine." He held his hand up, stepping in and giving her a hug.

Marie-Lucette, Marquise, pursed her lips and hugged her nephew until he let go. He hadn't hugged her since his mother had died. Once his damned father got his hooks in him, Anselme had always bowed, keeping formal even with people he used to hold affection for. "Well, if we're dropping formalities, just call me Aunt Lucette." She told him, looking him over. "God knows why every other woman in this country has to have "Marie" tacked onto their first name."

He furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "Very well, Aunt Lucette."

"You're looking well, Prince Anselme." She said as she let go. "Better than before, I've heard."

"Thank you, and just Ansell will suffice." He told her, shifting his weight nervously. Hoping, praying, she wasn't thinking the same as the others. The Beast Prince, the peculiar thing to whisper about.

"I haven't heard you being called that since your mother was chasing you around." She plucked two flutes of champagne from a tray, handing one to her nephew. "So how long have you been back to your old self?"

"I wouldn't necessarily call it my old self." He mused thoughtfully. "Even my body is… a bit different now. However, it's been four months since the curse was broken."

"And it took my brother all that time to see you?" Aunt Lucette rolled her eyes. "I see he's still a fine piece of work."

Ansell snickered at the remark, leaning in to keep his reply to only her ears. "A Rembrandt."

Lucette's rouged lips tugged at the corners of her face, highly amused by the remark. "Well now, you _have_ changed."

"I had to for all this to work." He noted, taking a sip. "If I didn't, everyone would be gasping and pointing at me. And I wouldn't blame them, between being seven feet tall and having horns it's so hard to fit in. Even when you have a good tailor."

She chuckled at Ansell, eyes raking up and down him thoroughly. Her nephew used to have such a cruel and lewd sense of humor. Whatever was in front of her was so much better. "So where is the girl? Obviously, there's one, there was so much emphasis on "earning her love in return by the time the last petal fell" and all that."

Ansell rolled his shoulders, pondering what to say. "She's not here" he hedged.

"Alright, then who is she?" Taking a sip of her champagne, she watched the blue eyes ache. "Clearly someone your father doesn't approve of or else he'd be parading you two around, unable to shut up about it."

The Prince hesitated, feeling protective of his relationship. Those who knew about Belle's station had not been supportive. "Belle." He finally mustered. "Her name is Belle."

"As pretty as her name implies?"

"And then some." He smiled ruefully, drawing a hand up to his mouth as a wave of loneliness swept over him. She would have eased into socializing and helped steady him. "She's really quite something."

Aunt Lucette tilted her head ever so slightly. "So then why isn't she here, being celebrated?"

"For… reasons." Ansell bristled, his back stiffening.

"Hmn." Knowing better than to press a prince, the Marquise held out her champagne flute. "Well then, to Belle."

"To Belle." He nodded, clinking his crystal with her own.

Lucette's eyes took in her nephew, shrewdly watching. The last time she had seen Prince Anselme, years ago, before her had been a slippery, fiendish, vile prince. Greedy and prone to bouts of rage if he felt slighted or insecure in any way. Yet here he was, amongst opulence, next to some of the most beautiful and richest women in the world, quietly sipping champagne in a corner. A wallflower, _Ansell,_ pining for some girl. No wonder his father didn't approve.

Ansell saw his older brother flirting with some young princess and slunk more against the drapes. "How is England, Aunt Lucette?" He asked, curious but also wishing to distract himself. "Are William and Victoria well? Last time I saw them we were just children."

"They look around whatever this age your appear to be. Both married respectful people young and made me a grandmother already. So now I get to feel old with all their little ones running about. And England is very pretty. Green and damp." tilting her head, she observed how the blue eyes ached at the crowds. Her poor nephew looked as if he needed a tooth extracted.

"And your husband didn't come?"

"Solomon? Lord no, not after this last war. Any red-blooded Frenchman would take one look at that sweet English fool and string him up in the name of the King. He's much safer in our castle." Running a finger over the rim of her glass, she smiled. "He sends his regards as well as some gifts."

"Generous man." He watched a gaggle of women bustle by, making eyes at him, whispering and giggling. One of them slipping a note into his palm. Reluctantly, dreadingly, he opened it to find a rather lewd and direct invitation scrawled on the paper. The heir grimaced at it.

"You look like you want to curl up in the drapes and die." Sipping her champagne, she leaned in. Pursing her lips and skimming the note, Lucette let out a soft, amused cackle. " _Well_. That's certainly straightforward."

"I have never been less aroused in my entire life." He huffed, pausing and blushing as to what he had just said to family. Letting out a weary sigh, he shut his eyes. "Aunt Lucette, it's been a pleasure but I really must retire. I hope the rest of your evening's pleasant."

Bowing and stepping away, he signaled to Lumiere and Chapeau as they stood near the door to follow him out.

"Your Highness?" Lumiere asked as they made a quick exit. "Master this party is in y-"

"They're not going to miss me." He told them in a tired grunt. "Half the room's getting ready to bed one another. I need to rest. And I need at least one person to help me out of this horrid suit."

"Your Grace?"

Turning, he came face to face with a gorgeous woman in a pale yellow dress and a mountain of a wig. Mustering up what little energy he had, the prince managed a smile. "Mademoiselle?"

"Elke von Tessmer of Saxony, Your Highness." She curtsied.

"Mademoiselle Tessmer. What do I owe the honor?" Gently taking her hand he pressed a kiss to the knuckles. "Surely you didn't travel all the way from Saxony to welcome me."

The Saxon's pale neck and ears began to flush with color at the clear blue eyes. "But of course. My family heard of your joyous return to the world and had to come. Saxony is an ally, we wished to welcome back a son of France."

Cocking his head ever so slightly and keenly, the Prince tried to appear flattered. Von Tessmer seemed a bit flushed from drinking, so he hoped it would pass. "Well, I thank you. And I apologize for missing you at the party. I sincerely hope we meet again at court."

"As do I." Batting the lashes hooding large eyes, she tilted her head demurely. "And I shall not take up any more of your time, Prince Anselme. I wish you a restful night."

"You as well, Mademoiselle." Bowing, he turned to retreated to Lumiere and Chapeau, whatever charm he had melting into tired impatience.

"The Mademoiselle seemed nice," Lumiere told him, keeping up Ansell's quick stride.

"Sniffing around an unmarried prince." He grumbled as they ascended the stairs. "Not the only one, mind you."

"A prince who's still a bachelor, that is a very tempting possibility to many families." Lumiere reminded him. "And women in general."

"Yes but I never remember them being this… handsy…" Shaking his head, he began to unbutton his waistcoat as the apartment's door drew closer. "I think it's safe to say I was groped in a few places even Belle hasn't gotten to."

"Well, my Prince, you are quite handsome. Even if they're not the one who's hands you'd prefer, you could always take it as a compliment." As Lumiere chuckled, Chapeau gave his companion a glance of top notch side eye.

"When do you think it would be safest to marry?" Ansell asked as soon as the door to his apartment clicked shut. "Could you two please help me out of this awful contraption?"

"What do you mean by safest, Your Grace?" Chapeau asked keenly. Fingers expertly peeling off the wig as Lumiere assisted Ansell out of the jacket.

"Well I certainly want to propose, but I suspect once my father gets wind of it either one of us or both will mysteriously disappear." Sighing heavily, Ansell took off all of the jewelry and placed it into a crystal bowl, kicking off his shoes as his gentleman's gentlemen helped him get down to his linen breeches for the night. "Honestly I don't know why this is coming up right now. I have other things at the present to focus on. However, I keep suspecting it's best to make it official after-" catching himself, he realized that he had yet to tell either men about the plan to run away.

"Yes, Master?" The Valet asked, carrying over a basin of water dashed with a touch of aromatic oils.

"Nothing, I'm just thinking out loud." Washing his face and wiping the makeup off, he gazed up at his friends tiredly as he patted his face with a towel. "Thank you for assisting me."

"You're welcome, Your Highness." Lumiere bowed as Chapeau fussed over the suit in his hands. "Do you need anything more?"

Stifling back a yawn, he shook his head slowly. "No thank you. I hope you have a good night."

"I'll be laying out your wardrobe for tomorrow before I take to bed." Somehow Chapeau always made the dullest job sound exciting to him. As he exited, Lumiere rolled his eyes to get a chuckle from their Prince before he blew out some of the candles in the room and shut the door.

Ansell fell onto his mattress. Placing a hand behind his head he looked up to the canopy of his bed, staring into the middle distance somewhere between the fabric and the hidden night sky. Wanting to be home. Not the castle, the cottage. Belle's warm body curled against him, the sound of the crickets outside, the rustling of the wind through the shutters. Those quiet little moments. Allowing the minutes to slip away, he dozed and thought of learning more about the life they would be building. About how much is wanted to wake next to her and go about his morning routine. Mind drifting to how much he even missed Maurice's early morning chats with him.

"Your Grace?"

Raising his head up, Ansell saw the familiar silhouette at the door once more. "Yes, Lumiere?" Sitting upright, he took a candle by the bedside and lit several more.

"I was assisting Chapeau and I found this in a coat pocket." Lumiere handed him a carefully folded piece of parchment.

Furrowing his brows, he took the paper and read the small note on one of the corners.

 _I thought you might want this._

 _\- Maurice._

Ansell unfolded the thick drawing paper, the inside revealing the sketch of Belle Maurice had drawn during one of their chats. A smile slowly pulling up the corners of his lips, he studied her face. That mischievous gleam in her eye, that lovely mouth. He could see her looking at him just so. About to tease him or pull him along into some playful scheme or time in the library. Oh god, he missed that gleam.

Ansell averted his eyes to the rug so Lumiere couldn't see how red they were.

"Master?"

"Thank you very much." Clearing his throat, he rubbed the bridge of his nose to keep the stinging at this eyelids from becoming something more. "It feels so odd not being home with her." He confessed sadly.

* * *

"It certainly feels… odd, not having Ansell home." Maurice mused out loud as he carefully cut a thin piece of metal for his next project. "Gotten so used to having our prince around in the mornings and evenings I keep waiting for him to open the door and ask for a cup of tea while he takes off his coat."

Belle's lips twitched while she turned the page of her book by the fireplace. Several stacks of reading material were scattered across the house to keep her occupied. The aftermath of a restless mind being left to its own devices. "He'd have supper from the castle."

"And a bag full of greenery and a book in his pocket." He watched his daughter cautiously over the tops of his glasses, noting the brief flicker of happiness in her eyes from musing over the lad. Like embers meeting a strong wind it quickly fizzled out.

"He's a good fit around here." Tucking a ribbon between the pages to keep her place, she sighed. The days since he had left had felt so disjointed.

"I know you're missing him, but I can't help but think something else is on your mind." Maurice hinted. Putting his tool down he watched as she got up and pensively went over to him, wringing her hands. "Belle, is everything alright?"

"We need to talk." Staring down at the floor, she pulled a chair up and took a seat. Lacing her hands together, leaning forward on her elbows, unable to look her father in the eye.

" _Talk_." Letting out a deep breath, he turned to her. "Why does this not sound like a pleasant conversation?"

"You know how difficult it's been for Ansell and I." She began, feeling sick to her shoes at what she had to say. "Royal customs don't condone our relationship. At least not marriage."

"He's nobility, and you're a village girl." Maurice reached out and touched her arm reassuringly. "It's a hurdle, I'm aware."

"We have to leave." Looking up at him, frightened, she searched his eyes. "Papa... we have to leave France," Belle forced out, hating every last word leaving her lips "and Ansell has to give up his title for us to have a chance."

Maurice let go of her arm, sitting back in his chair, taking it all in. No wonder she had looked like she was being eaten from the inside out since the boy left.

"We want you to come with us." She tried to smile, to give him hope.

"No." Maurice began to shake his head slowly. "No. Belle, I'm too old to run away." He said sadly, his eyes feeling hot.

"We're using the book-"

"I'm too old to learn a new language, a new way of life-"

Fighting tears Belle soldiered on. "Papa, _no_ you're _not_."

"This is all I've ever known." He refuted, firm and beginning to sound upset.

"This is all I've ever known too." She pressed. "And it's all he's ever known. But we want to have a life together, and we _both_ want you in that life." Reaching forward, she squeezed his hand. "We both love you so much Papa, and we want you to be there for everything."

Maurice sighed, his eyes stinging, his shoulders heavy with the weight of her words.

Her face was still pained, beginning to look desperate. She needed him with them. If not, who would take care of him? "Will you at least think about it, please?"

"Belle, I'm not getting any younger. How could I possibly-"

"Quit saying that." Belle's eyes narrowed in earnest, becoming frustrated at his excuse. "Don't you want to give me away at my wedding? I would like you to be there. Just like I'd like you to be there for every holiday, every milestone. There's so much to look forward to as soon as we're free from his title, from his father, from France."

Running his fingers through his hair, fingers grasping the ribbon as it slid out of place, Maurice shut his eyes as the weariness crept into his bones. "I do want what's best for you." shaking his head slowly, studying his own wrinkled hands, he swallowed thickly. "I'm going to need time to process all this, you know."

"Of course." She agreed softly. "But, I don't want to leave you." Getting up, she stood behind his chair. Wrapping her arms around him, squeezing his shoulders tenderly, putting her face against the side of his own. "I love you, Papa."

"I love you too." Wetting his lips he squeezed a hand holding him from above.

* * *

 _A/N: Ohhhhh man. Here we go. Part Two._

 _Ansell's age/aging has been such a weird thing I've been going back and forth on. I've been debating it so much, it's changed several times, including just this morning. Technically after 10 years, he's 31. Technically. That said, he certainly didn't mature emotionally during his 10 years of extensive professional level moping. Post-curse, he's rather youthful. Also, he was cursed, but not inanimate object cursed. The beast was an animal, and so here the beast felt the effects of time, but at a much more slower rate than a human. So he's somewhere in the middle there, like ambiguous early/mid 20s._

 _Make sure to head on over to Two Very Small Storms! I added two more one-shots to that one, which is going to be the place where all the super fluffy stuff that doesn't make it into NAHE proper will live. Very cute, possible squeeing if you're into that sort of thing._

 _As always, THANK YOU for your kudos, bookmarks, and comments. They are all fuel to us writer-types, our egos desperate for stoking. As always, if you love it, hate it, don't know how to feel about it, or want to tell me how I should feel about it, drop a line down below. I also answer questions if you've got any._

 _Anywho, let me know what's what. I'll see you next week._


	18. Chapter 18

Taking a sip of his coffee, Ansell shifted his position in his chair with annoyance towards the rather form fitting breeches that were in fashion. Picking up the sketchbook Belle had given him, he carefully inspected her rose; running a thumb over the edges of the pages to get them to flutter, musing over what he may find nearby on the grounds. There was an herb garden, but also the wild woods further out he could venture to.

Tucked carefully in the middle of the book, a blue ribbon fell out, twisting down into his lap.

Furrowing his brows he held it up, inspecting it carefully. Eyes lighting up to the particular shade of blue. Knowing it was all too familiar. Keeping her hair braided, back, or up. Wistfully rubbing it between his fingers, Ansell brought it up to his nose. There was a hint of her scent. He smiled into it wistfully.

"Master," Lumiere called out from the door. "Your Brother."

"Of course." Carefully tucking the ribbon away in a jacket pocket and slipping the book into his breast pocket, he waved Francis in, a maid following with a large silver platter of breakfast. "Francis-"

"Brother, so nice of you to invite me." He said politely with a slight bow. Not as done up as Leon, but still foppish and bedecked in beads and jewels. He took a seat across from the prince as the maid set up the service and another brought in a fresh tray of coffee and removed the other.

"I haven't seen you in ten years and the party was rather crowded." Taking over he took a new cup that was poured for him. "Thank you, Madame."

"You were the beau of the ball." he mused, carefully taking a bunch of grapes, glistening wet like dark rubies.

"I certainly felt like something else." He confessed. Marveling at Francis' age, older than him, he took a sip.

"Nonsense," his brother was so different. Well dressed, but in more muted colors compared to the bright suits of the other men. The designs on his silk jacket not glitter florals, but great roaring cats. Golden hair down instead of a wig like a mane, face clear of makeup. Ansell was sitting back, his chin tilted, eyes keen. Relaxed, yet ready to pounce at a moment's notice. Powerful. "I watched you, you were dashingly handsome and charmingly conversational." popping a grape between the back of his teeth he smiled.

"It takes a lot more to put on that act nowadays." He confessed. "It's not necessarily natural."

"No makeup? No wig?"

"They haven't forced me out of my room yet." He reasoned. "But enough about me. What have you been up to?"

"Well, I got married." Francis crossed one leg over the other and settled back in the chair. "Italian woman. She's very nice, very sweet, doesn't put up with lazily drinking all day-"

"But that was the sport you were best at."

Francis chortled at the quip. "We made a passel of six children. One more soon; winter."

"Six?" Ansell raised his brows.

"They're all extremely bright, so they take after her." His brother smiled, wistfully, proudly. "I summer at Versailles and spend the rest of the year in Italy with the family. Her father is a Cavaliere and has no sons so we're set to inherit the estate. It's in the mountains, very pretty. We get a white Christmas every year."

He watched his little brother, one side of his mouth pulling into a lopsided smile. "You sound happy, Francis."

Gazing down into his cup Francis nodded slowly as the ropes of steam hit his nose. "I'm certainly no prince, but I do have something nice."

"Being a Prince isn't as fulfilling as some think." Ansell scoffed under his breath. "Why do you summer in France?"

"Father, mostly. But admittedly there are certain perks of being at court… without your wife." He hinted. "I also go to Paris before I leave for home and pick up a wagon's worth of supplies and gifts. The fabric and lace alone make Marcella the beauty of any event we attend."

"Ah."

Francis wet his lips. "So, if I may be so bold… the mademoiselle?"

The piercing blue eyes locked onto his sibling.

The unwavering stare gave Francis a shiver as he soldiered on. "We all know the words you were bound to by heart, brother. The curse lifting was the work of not just you."

"He hasn't told you anything?" The prince asked quietly.

"He hasn't wanted to tell me anything. Which has led me to suspect that your better half doesn't live up to his standards."

Ansell chuckled dryly. "When does anyone ever." Opening his mouth, he chose his words tactfully. "She certainly is my better half."

"So?"

"She's not nobility, but that's all I'd rather say." Reaching over, he took a strawberry and dipped it in crème chantilly. "How many nieces and how many nephews?"

Francis smiled warmly. "Four girls, two boys, hopefully, three. You know Leon has four-"

"Leon's an ass." He interjected before taking a bite.

"Some things never change." He reminded.

"And what has he told you?"

"That you're an ass."

Ansell rolled his eyes as he chewed, flicking the stem onto the tray.

Gazing out the window to the stunningly perfect gardens as green as emeralds, Francis exhaled. "That was always you two though. Fighting. I admit I was mean to you too, but you and Leon were always particularly-"

"Hateful" Ansell sipped. "We're like fire and gunpowder."

"He has his reasons you know." Francis's voice hinted his defensiveness towards his full-blooded sibling.

"And he can blame Father, Francis," Ansell grumbled. "He was the one who played favorites. If it was up to me the first born would inherit the title, legitimate or not." Gesturing forcefully to the door he snorted as his brother was stunned at the declaration. "By all means, that's a conversation I'd love to be able to have. But we all know who's in charge of this family, and who stirs the pot between the three of us."

"So you're serious about that?"

"I wouldn't joke about the inheritance."

"But he said you threatened him," Francis announced firmly.

His shoulders tensed. "Because he's crass and over dramatic-

"Well, that's the pot calling the kettle-"

"You don't make comments about the woman I love. Not like he did." The prince began to snarl at the memory. "He came into my house with an ax to grind, kept goading me into a fight. And I reminded him of his place."

Carefully filing away the information the heir had unwittingly given him, Francis took a sip. "Careful, Ansell. At least here."

"I'm surprised he never told you any more." He caught his brother's eyes shifting, trying to tuck thoughts away before they could be found.

"You know how he and father are." A frown pulled at the sides of Francis' mouth "Always colluding-"

"Always being his eyes and ears and tongue in return for affection." Ansell grunted. Realizing he was gripping the arm of his chair more tightly than he wanted, he forced himself to relax. "There has to be something more pleasant for us to talk about."

"Well, you won't talk about this woman you love." Francis reminded him.

"Anything else."

"Then we're going to run out of subjects fairly quickly." He lamented. "When there's no drama or gossip, it's terribly boring."

Ansell's lips twitched. "What are your thoughts on Uncle Hugon?"

A face of disinterest, a hint of disgust proceeded the question. "Please, that bumbling oaf, dense wife, and his mean little creature of a son?"

"Something tells me they're sniffing around for a Dukedom." The prince chuckled. "Loud sniffing at that, like a basset."

"Something tells me father will have them out on their ear within the next day or so." Reaching over, he took a piece of bread slathered with goat cheese. Finishing is part of the conversation before popping the piece into his mouth. "They're so tastelessly obvious."

"When has Uncle and Auntie ever been anything but? And Julien is worse than all of us-"

"That's because he's not terrified of his father." Using a finger Francis delicately lifted the crumbs from his lips "The little roach walks all over them. Or scuttles I suppose."

"When did you become so pleasant?" Ansell asked boldly, much to Francis' shock.

"When I grew up." He scoffed. "Don't worry, I still have my vices, I still love the _excess_ of it all. But I found out I could do it nicely."

"I suppose that was my fault." Reaching around he took Belle's ribbon and used it to secure his hair back. "I never did learn how to play nice."

"Well with a father like ours, how could you?"

Nodding his head slowly he gazed into his cup, the little dark ripples. The ebb and flow. "How did you avoid falling into that particular trap?"

"After you were cursed I left court." He replied with a shrug. "I traveled for some time with some companions. Learned manners. Was married off to a woman who doesn't put up with cruelness. Fathered a child nearly every year like clockwork." Thrumming his fingers on the arm chair he gazed into his brother's eyes firmly, honestly. "It took me awhile, Ansell. I made a lot of mistakes, discovered a lot of regrets, faced a well of anger. But I came out better in the end I suppose." Sliding his finger around the rim of his cup he confessed. "I must admit, I did it all so I would never befall the same fate. I look terrible in furs." The joke didn't land and he frowned sheepishly.

"Perhaps I'm the cautionary tale." Missing the joke the prince's chest heaved and he couldn't look Francis in the eye. The thought of it all, his curse a failure to warn the others, was too awful. A knot twisting in his stomach and settling in the pit of it. Drawing his fist up, he forced a deep breath to curb the sadness and creeping anxiety that wanted to follow.

"Though you did find love through it all."

"Yes." He smiled wistfully. The chestnut hair, chocolate eyes, and radiant smile sweeping away all the darkness. He didn't deserve her, she was far too sweet and he was far too... himself. "And Belle-" Catching himself, his face fell.

Francis grinned at the slip-up. "So _Belle._ "

* * *

"I strongly dislike that _girl_."

Belle turned to the voice, peeved as she caught the headmaster and Clothilde grumbling to themselves at a corner in the village square. Turning on a heel back and away to ignore them, her spirits brightened to the two men and the cart of goods.

"Belle!" Gustave beamed as Stephane jumped down.

"What a lovely surprise." Giving Gustave a hug, book in hand touching his back, she turned to his partner. "Stephane."

"It's wonderful to see you too." Taking her hand, ever the gentleman, he kissed her knuckles.

"You can hug her, y'know." Gustave quipped.

"He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to." Smiling at the pair, she glanced to the cart. "How is delivery for the palace?"

"Going really well. Mrs. Potts seems to think I'll starve?"

Belle chuckled. "Sounds about right."

"We're headed over, would you like to come?" He offered, "We were promised lunch and tea, and Stephane is getting a tour of the fencing room."

"Oh, I'm headed up there myself." She watched her friends perk up to the prospect of the trip together. "But I have an awful lot of equipment to bring and a horse to drop off at the stables. I was going to load up my own cart."

"There should be enough room in Gustave's," Stephane looked over the contents of their cart, hand absently resting on his rapier. "Why don't we go see if it'll fit? If not, we'll help you load up yours. You can follow us in."

"That sounds lovely." With a boost from Stephane, Belle climbed up. Sitting on the side of the bench, Stephane settled between herself and Gustave as the pony plodded off.

Stephane and Belle both saw the gossipers, the group having expanded to include the triplets. The pair scowled and Stephane began to rise off of his seat.

Gustave took him by the wrist, pulling him back down. "Come on, we talked about this. Deep breaths. Deeeeep breaths."

"I'm getting sick of them." He grumbled. "One day this'll all come to a head."

"And I'll be there with you," Belle said in a low, angry tone.

"You two! Whatever happened to turning the other cheek? To ignoring the bullies? To cowardly hiding?"

"Well, I _certainly_ don't hide." She told him.

"Me neither." Stephane agreed.

The two both relaxed, the cart jostling on the cobblestones. Belle glanced over at Stephane's leather frog sitting against the footboard. The hilt of his rapier shimmering silver. "Stephane?"

"Hm?"

"Would you mind teaching me how to fence?"

* * *

"He's not feeling well. Can you take a look at him?" Belle asked Mr. Potts as she handed the reins of the big gray horse over. Petting Roman's large velvet nose, she held his halter as the stable master began to give her ride a look over. "He's had a cough, and he's not eating like he should."

"Hmm." Mr. Potts ran his palm over the gentle giant's shoulder, catching the worry in the girl's brown eyes. "We'll give him a good look over but he'll have to stay with me, I know you're sweet on him."

"We've just always gotten along so well, even when he was a wagon." Reaching over, she took a palmful of oats from a feed bag and offered them up to her friend. "And he's so good for work, Phillipe's not always big enough when we need heavy lifting."

"Well, let's give the old boy a bit of a break." Mr. Potts told her. "Nothing you've done wrong, Belle. Just all of our stock that was caught up in the curse has been prone to a bit of a cold ever since. Even Cavall was a touch under the weather before the Master took him to Versailles." Patting the big neck, he gave a reassuring nod as he walked the Percheron over to a stall. "It seems to clear quickly. We'll fix him up but in the meantime, you'll need to just use Phillipe."

"That should be fine." She shrugged lightly.

"Well, I'll let you know if we get anything new to try. Usually, with a trip to Versailles and Paris, there are at least one or two purchases. For the time being though everything else is taken or not well enough to be lent."

"I'm sure I'll manage." Belle watched a stable boy tend to Roman, who was more interested in getting snacks than having someone take off his saddle. "And how are you doing, Monsieur?"

"Very well." He smiled. "Teaching Chip the trade, he's got a bit of the touch."

"Mrs. Potts?"

"Sad you're not here, but a merciful ruler." They both enjoyed a short laugh, and he nodded off towards the castle. "Go head on up, we'll take care of Roman. She'll be wanting to see you and fill you full of tea and biscuits."

"I have a project to work on first but I'll sneak you some of those biscuits on my way back." She promised.

"You're going to get us both in trouble."

* * *

"I really should have installed this sooner," Belle said with a knock of her mallet, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she looked over the washing machine that was placed into the laverie. The maids studied the contraption with a good deal of hesitation. Belle had been building all morning and into the afternoon, measuring and cutting and nailing, her tools swaying from her new belt. Smiling in accomplishment, she unhooked the donkey from the post. "Alright, let me show you how it works."

Mrs. Potts came out with a tray of drinks, watching the girl set up her washing machine at the large reservoir they used to wash the linens. Explaining each step, what needed to be placed where, how much soap was needed per load. Tossing some sheets into the barrel, she got the donkey started, and the whole thing started moving, churning, and foaming.

"It's half the time, I promise." Looking up, brushing some strands of hair out of her face, she brightened at the sight of Mrs. Potts.

"I brought refreshments for everyone, come on. This heat wave isn't kind." Coaxing her maids over, she watched Belle straighten her skirt and refasten her ribbon before coming over. "Well now, you look as if your clothes could use a washing in your invention."

"I am a bit dirty." Taking one of the cool drinks, she sipped, watching the laundry lazily tumbling in the soap. "How has the castle been? I feel like I don't come over enough."

"Quiet without you two. How are you fairing?"

Belle sighed, putting her hand on her hip. "We had a routine, and I feel so out of sorts with it gone." Glancing up at the Englishwoman she added. "I do try to keep myself busy, but I'm starting to realize how much time was spent on Ansell."

"Well, aren't you reading?" They walked back inside through the servant's entrance.

Belle was amused at the question. "You should see the stack I brought back because I went through it. It's barely been a week."

"It'll fly by." She reassured.

Glancing down at her cool cup, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I could use a change of clothes, but would you like to have tea after? We never get to actually sit down and talk and I'd love to if you have the time."

Mrs. Potts looked over the young woman dearly. How long had it been since she had been invited to sit down and have a cuppa? Besides the Mister, that sweet man. "I'll send Plumette up to tidy you up and put you in a fresh frock. I need to check on the parlor, but after that, I'll meet you in the library for proper tea time. How's that sound, Love?"

"Perfect."

* * *

"I mean, don't you ever miss England?"

Mrs. Potts mused over the idea, taking a long draw of her tea. "I do, and John does too. But we moved so long ago."

"Do you miss your family?" Belle smoothed her daffodil hued skirt out, the fabric embroidered with blue flowers and greenery around the hem.

"Of course I do." Looking past the mountains of books, she sighed heavily. One of the tables, the one clear of novels, maps, and other sundries, had a proper English tea serving set up. Sturdy silver and delicate ceramic; cream and sugar and little sandwiches. It was familiar and soothing to the older woman. "I have a large family all across London, but, when we married and left we were so young." The light was filtering in through the windows, grazing over a bronze bust of Aristotle. Setting her cup down and lacing her fingers together she continued. Mind delving into years ago. "We moved around so much; he was just a stable boy and I was just a scullery maid. But we slowly got promoted, went to better houses, better pay, better treatment."

"When'd you arrive at the castle?" Playing with the handle of the delicate cup, she watched the wistfulness work its way across the woman's face.

Being drawn out of the memories, Mrs. Potts caught something out of the corner of her eye. Belle's curiosity being more than just casual chit-chat. Tilting her head slowly to the side the housemaid's eyes slid to the young woman. There was a long, thoughtful silence. Sizing Belle up, her pensiveness, the way she fidgeted.

Belle shrunk slightly from having her mining operation discovered.

"Is there anything we need to talk about, Dearie?" She asked carefully, motherly.

"Oh, wow." Gustave breathed out as he and Stephane peered into the library.

Belle relaxed, relief washing over her face as she turned to find them lingering in the doorway. "Come in and take a look." She offered.

They both hesitated.

"Come on," she coaxed them in. "We have tea and sandwiches if that's an incentive."

Wandering in, they both gawked, slack jawed at all of the books. "This…This is... is yours?" Stephane bumbled.

"I know, I still feel that way." She admitted, getting up. "Would you like to borrow anything? It's all sorted by genre and then by author. It can be a little tricky but I can usually find what everyone is looking for."

Gustave rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Oh no, we couldn't."

Stephane gave Gustave a knowing look.

Belle's head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

"I uh…" he swallowed thickly. "I don't really know how to read."

Mrs. Potts gave Gustave the most sympathetic and loving of gazes. "Oh Love, that's quite alright. There's no need to be ashamed."

"We're certainly not going to judge anyone." Belle gave a small reassuring smile.

"This is… a lot of books." He marveled. "Sorta makes me wish I could read."

"I could teach you." She offered, getting up and walking over. "I have some books for people just starting out. We can go whatever speed you're comfortable with."

Gustave hesitated.

Stephane nudged him gently, giving his amour a supportive smile. "You've talked about wanting to. Just over dinner last night, in fact."

Taking a moment, he slowly nodded his head. Steadily building more confidence. "Actually, yes that would be really nice."

Belle was suddenly aglow with the prospect of a student. "Well, we can start tomorrow, or whenever works best for you."

"We can talk about it on the ride back." Energized at the idea of learning a wide grin flashed from ear to ear.

"Sounds-"

Suddenly one Georges the footman burst in, his face stark white, chest heaving as he was out of breath. He looked like he had seen the dead and was ready to collapse. "Mrs. Potts!" He gulped. Seeing Belle, he turned green.

"Land sakes, boy!" She rose, exasperated with the young man who had previously been furniture. "What on Earth has you fit to be tied?"

He looked at them all nervously, tugging on his jacket. Mouth agape.

"You look like a bloody fish." The Englishwoman chastised. "Spit it out."

"The- The- The maintenance. They- They were going about and looking for repairs and…" he wanted to faint. "Mon Dieu Mrs. Potts!"

"GEORGES."

"Mrs. Potts they found _Gaston!_ "

Belle turned white, eyes as big as saucers. "Wait, _what_?"

"They-They found his body."


	19. Chapter 19

"Well, we found as much of him that's left after four months." The maintenance man sighed. "I have the boys removing him, we're trying to be… respectful."

"Hfm! _Respectful."_ Cogsworth grumbled.

"Come now," Mrs. Potts chastised.

"I'm sorry but that man was a monster!" He exclaimed. "After all he did to Belle and her father? And then he butchered Prince Anselme! As far as I'm concerned he deserves an unmarked grave."

Gustave and Stephane bowed her heads, clearly still affected by Gaston's death. No matter how, it lingered with them.

"Cogsworth, he might have been our enemy but he still deserves a real burial," Plumette replied.

Belle was finally getting the color back in her cheeks. "I have to agree." Every looked at her for an explanation. "People in the village, certain people, could probably benefit from seeing him laid to rest."

"Belle, I would think you of all people-"

"Cogsworth, as much as I hate Gaston, and I truly _loathe_ him, I think that's what best. And I actually think the castle should pay for the service." The head of the house was aghast, and she held a hand out to stop him from going off in a blustery fit of rage. "It would go a long way with the villagers who are still upset. It could give them some closure. It could give _everyone_ closure."

Cogsworth sighed heavily as if the farm girl would be the death of him. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he groaned. "Well, then we must contact the Prince. It'll come from his coffers."

"I can write the letter." She told him. "But we'll need a fast rider, someone discreet."

"Very well, I'll talk to Mr. Potts."

Turning around she covered her mouth with her hands, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath.

Mrs. Potts came over, rubbing her back soothingly.

"I need to write the letter." She finally muttered, wandering over to where she knew the stationary was kept. "I don't have a seal-"

"You'll use Cogsworth's." Mrs. Potts reassured.

"I hope he's having a better time than we are." Belle said under her breath.

* * *

"I wonder what the gathering is about." Francis mused as the siblings had been summoned. Catching up with the Prince's long, purposeful strides, his brother's men trailed behind at an appropriate distance as they neared the parlor they had been requested to go to.

"Do they ever even need a reason here?" The Prince scoffed, flagrantly bucking the social norms with his plaited golden hair and lack of powder. "Lumiere, do you have any idea why they're in the parlor? To ask me stu-" His face slackened, eyes harsher, more guarded.

"No idea, Your Grace." The voices coming from the open doors of the parlor made Lumiere stopped in his tracks and the Prince do the same. Even from the back, he and Chapeau could see their Master bristling, reacting to the noise.

Francis noticed it as well and cautiously slowed his pace, watching.

Pausing, Ansell exhaled sharply through his nose and his posture changed, making Lumiere nervous. A prowl. Head slightly lowered, shoulders rolled forward, legs in a smooth gate, and although he could see it yet knew it, blue eyes fixated and dilating. Nearly stalking like a great cat. He half expected a low rumble, almost a purr of anticipation, like the time he and the staff had caught a glimpse through the windows of the Beast hunting a poor doe that had wandered into the gardens.

The sound of whining, grunting pups made the Prince want to lash his tail even though he had none. The smell of dog hitting his nose, making his lips twitch. It was so hard to fight the instinct. Too many run ins. Hunters, hounds, wolves. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back and relaxed his hands which had splayed tensely as if they were a clawed paw about to swipe.

Francis arched a brow.

The Duke looked up from a crate, motioning for his sons to come over as the others clustered around.

"What on Earth is that?" His heir grumbled peevishly.

"A gift from England." Aunt Lucette explained as she came into the room. "The Marquis wanted to send something to show his love for the court despite the outcome of the war."

"Dogs from the finest English stock, Sire." A footman explained.

"His private stock." She added. "He has a whole kennel, but these ones are his favorite breed. Absolutely adores them, I can't get him to keep the damn things out of the castle."

"Wolfhounds." Leon grinned from his spot at the crate, lifting a large gray puppy up into his arms. "What giants they'll be, we can use them for so many large hunts."

"Only nobles can own them in England." Another Duke exclaimed.

Ansell set his jaw, on edge as the others marveled at how big and cunning the dogs would be, running down wolves and deer easily. It made his blood curdle, times of fur and fangs flashing back.

Awful, dreadful things to serve awful, dreadful hunters.

* * *

"Now listen here, boy," John said firmly as he held the skittish horse by the bridle. The animal snorting and shivering in anticipation. "If you so much as open that letter and read it, I'll have the guards hunt you down and drag you back so help me."

"Yes, Sir." The young stable boy, the best rider the grounds had save for Mr. Potts, gripped the reins firmly.

"If you have to 'ave a fresh horse, do it. Get there as quickly as possible. Not a moment to lose. And come back just as quick. " Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the others waiting anxiously at the steps. "Now you have the letter?"

He nodded his head.

"Good!" Letting go and slapping the flank, the horse bolted. Turning around he returned to the group. "If he doesn't sleep, he'll probably make it in a day."

"Lord I hope so." His wife sighed. "They wrapped the body up and set it in the catacombs for now."

Belle slowly nodded her head, glancing over to her friends who were clearly struggling with the event.

"We have to keep this quiet until we know what to do," Cogsworth ordered them all. "If anyone in the village finds out we have his body there'll be _another mob."_

The others all nodded slowly, shock still settling in.

Mrs. Potts noticed all the youngsters nearly green. She ushered them all inside like a mother hen. "Come on, Dears. I don't know about you but I could use a good, stiff drink."

* * *

"Anselme."

Hearing his father, he kept his disdain for the dogs in check. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"Come and choose yours." he said as the others were inspecting the pups.

He resisted taking a step back. "Oh no, I couldn't."

"Come, come. Don't be shy."

"I don't like-"

"That _wasn't_ a suggestion." He replied firmly, a threat waiting at the tip of his tongue.

Lucette wandered in further, watching her nephew's obvious reluctance towards the canines.

The Prince came forward, staring into the box where a half dozen or so squirming, chewing, bouncing little furballs were confined. It was hard to not appear visibly disgusted at the blasted things. All he could see were hell hounds crashing through the forest, destruction in their wake. Snarling and charging him. Biting him.

"Take the strongest one, My Prince." Someone suggested.

"The Dauphin already took the strongest."

"Well then take the second strongest."

Tilting his head, he leaned over. All of them pepper gray except one; the little black one in the corner. Scrawnier than its littermates, it was struggling to get out from underneath the biggest, chunkiest pup that had pushed it down into submission. Reaching over, he nudged the larger one away and scooped the runt up, big wet eyes gazing back up at him. Tail wagging as a pink tongue lapped out of its mouth.

One of the kennel masters grimaced. "Oh, you don't want one, My Lord. I don't know why it wasn't culled, weak little thing it is. Full of worms from the look of it. My apologies, we'll take that one."

His aunt observed his posture change as he tucked it under his arm and out of reach of the Kennel Master. Her nephew unsure of his next move, but not yet wanting to give up the dog.

"The black looks rather ominous amongst all the grays, don't you think?" A more pious noble remarked.

"It's so… scrawny."

"Well you heard him, wormy little thing, no wonder it's sickly."

"The only bitch of the litter. Take the largest male, Your Highness, that one is so... odd."

Ears pricking towards the last word, Ansell gazed down at the dog. The odd one, the sick one, the one the kennel masters would surely cull as soon as he got his hands on it. Suddenly, he felt a rush of defiance. "She's mine."

The Duke's mouth pulled into a displeased scowl. "Are you sure?"

"I don't mind cast offs." He said, ruffling the small ears. "I tend to sympathize, actually." Ignoring the others reacting to his choice, his poor choice they all would say, Ansell turned around and left with it.

"He has a weakness for the lessers." He heard his father say.

Growling under his breath as he headed to his apartment.

The Marquise narrowed her eyes at the Prince stalking off with his reject of a puppy.

The puppy squirmed, earnestly trying to lick him as he stalked off with it. Large brown eyes looking up at the sour face of its new master with boundless love.

"Just because I rescued you doesn't mean we're friends."

* * *

Belle and the men sat quietly in the library, cradling glasses of their preferred poison. Heads sunk low, eyes fixated far away. The vast room, normally warm and safe, felt like a cold void. It was feeding off of their collective shock and aching stomachs.

"I'm sorry I broke your laundry machine."

She glanced up at Stephane, who was more than a few brandies in. His eyes bloodshot and sincere, unable to make eye contact. "I helped them break the first one, and we threw all your clothes onto the ground. I never apologized."

"It's okay-"

"But it's not." His voice cracked. "I was so mean-"

"We used to hang out with mean people," Gustave muttered under his breath. "And they used to pick on you… or treat you like an object they could just… _have_."

"You don't anymore, that's what matters." She told them both. The pair so overwhelmed with guilt for being associated with those in the village who were cruel or conceited. "And we're friends now."

They nodded slowly, Gustave letting out a heavy sigh. Stephane reaching over to his chair and rather affectionately patting the hand that rested on the arm. Giving it a supportive squeeze.

The door creaked open and Mrs. Potts shuffled in, observing the trio. "Oh, you poor dears. Do you need anything?"

They all shook their heads slowly.

"No, but thank you." Belle mustered. "Has anything else happened?"

She closed the door carefully. "We've been talking about how to announce all of this once the prince responds and gives his blessing to fund the service-"

"Do you really think he will?" Stephane asked skeptically.

Belle nodded her head slowly. "If I know him, he won't give it a second thought."

"Why did we have to find him." Gustave lamented. "He should have just… I dunno… magically" he wriggled his fingers into the air. "Poofed into dust or… something."

"Mademoiselle?" Cogsworth called out from the door, ever poised, even if his knees were giving him trouble because of the weather. "Your presence has been requested in the Master's office."

Setting the glass down, Belle followed Cogsworth out. "So who knows?" She asked under her breath.

"The immediate staff and the men who took him off the roof." He murmured back. "At least we now know why there have been so many crows on that side of the castle."

Shivering at the thought, she followed him down the hall, the majordomo squinting. He had been struggling with his eyesight ever since the curse had been broken, using his spectically nearly every moment she saw him. However, as of late she had noticed his handwriting had become less sharp. "Cogsworth, have you ever thought of getting new glasses?"

"Oh I couldn't, they're so expensive!" He huffed, clearly struggling to see through his old ones. "And my eyes are just fine."

Without him noticing, Belle carefully nudged a standing candelabra out of the way of his shuffling feet. His cane hitting the wall, course correcting him. "Was your sight the same as a clock?"

"Oh it was better!" smiling, he turned to her happily. "The clearest it's ever been. Gears and springs don't have health problems you know, other than needing some oil and fearing rust."

Nodding thoughtfully, a footman opened the door and she came in to find Mrs. Potts, her husband, and the head of maintenance. "Where's poor Georges?"

"I swore him to secrecy and Cogsworth gave him the day off." Mrs. Potts sighed. "Gave him some brandy from the Master's collection, Chef is whipping up his favorite dish."

"Oh good. I thought he was going to faint."

"Oh, he did, _twice._ " Cogsworth divulged, stopping at the desk and leaning heavily on his cane. Medals rattling across his chest and stomach. "Anxious thing, that boy is. Has the fortitude of a hare that's heard a barking dog."

"Also doesn't help that he caught a glimpse of Gaston when they were taking him down." The Englishwoman added.

Approaching the table, Belle eyed the object wrapped in a heavy cloth.

"Cleaned it up," Maintenance told her "but we thought you should 'ave a look at it."

Reaching in, she found the handle and her brown eyes widened. Knowing the weight, the grip. The metal. Carefully she unwrapped the mirror and cradled the back with her palm. A chunk of the top missing from the fall, divots and scuff marks everywhere, and a dried, dark red something stuck in cracks and crevices that she did not want to think about.

The mirror's glass had cracked.

Looking up at the pensive room she furrowed her brows and raised it up. "Show me Prince Anselme."

The mirror did nothing.

Drawing it down, Belle gazed at it sadly. The sliver of hope at seeing his face disappearing "I guess the enchanted objects aren't invincible."

"It was certainly worth a go." Mr. Potts sighed.

"Bonfils, dispose of it." Cogsworth ordered the maintenance man. "There's no need for that wretched thing. It tortured the Master for years."

"Actually, can I hold onto it?" She asked, keeping it out of Bonfils' reach. "The rose is gone, and all that's left other than the mirror is the book."

"I have no idea why you would possibly want that."

She didn't say that because of the mirror he had let her go, and because he had let her go she finally let herself love him. Carefully wrapping it up, well aware it was a capsule of both good memories and bad, Belle replied softly. "It's an important part of our story."

"Very well." Cogsworth heaved. "This day has been a disaster."

Belle sighed heavily in agreement. "I certainly hope Ansell's day is better than ours."

"I'm sure he has his own pressing matters."

* * *

"Master, I have the most brilliant suit for din-"

Chapeau gave his prince a once over, down to his shirt and breeches, grinding an assortment of dried goods up with the mortar and pestle.

"Come in, Chapeau." He said, grimacing and pushing the dog away from under the table with a bare foot. Grumbling. "Can you get her? She keeps licking my toes."

Carefully hanging the gorgeous suit glimmering with gems he was so proud of, Chapeau reluctantly went over and scooped up the dog, holding it outward awkwardly as he inspected it. "Sir, if I may be so bold as to ask, what's going on?"

"I finally managed to get some supplies from the palace herbalist." He explained distractedly, more focused on adding a bit of oil to his concoction. "Very lovely lady, a bit suspicious of a man asking for ingredients."

"But sir, why do you _need_ such things?" He asked in a way one does when it is all so unseemly.

"The pup has worms." He missed Chapeau holding the dog out even further away. "But, I'm confident I can fix that. Get her on the mend."

Gazing at the hound, Chapeau screwed his nose up in disgust.

The puppy wriggled when eye contact was finally made, pink hanging out happily towards just being touched.

"Here we are, Sire." Lumiere announced as he walked in, presenting a porcelain bowl full of food that was of quality far better than most common household's dinner tables.

"Oh good, thank you." Taking the bowl he poured the paste onto the food and carefully mixed it in.

"What is _that_?" The valet paled.

"Some day old baguette and seared vegetables but it's mostly a side of seared salmon topped with pate and some sauce." His friend divulged. "It seems our petite chiot will only have the finest scraps in all of France."

"I know what that is." He glared over at the maître d', still holding the dog outward.

"A mixture for parasites," Ansell told both men as he put the bowl down and signaled for the hound to be released. It hopped over, nearly tripping over its gigantic feet, attacking the food with gusto. "I'll make some more later, enough for the next few days. It needs to be mixed into her food twice a day but it should work quickly."

Chapeau tilted his chin up, having no time for puppies.

"Come on." Lumiere prodded the ever somber valet with an elbow. "It's _cute_."

"It _smells._ "

"Oh Chapeau, could you give her a bath?" Ansell asked absently while he peeled off his clothes, completely unaware of friends' conversation. "She smells like an unkempt kennel."

Lumiere watched the valet become green at the thought, an impressive feat with his layers of makeup. "Master, I think it's best I take our petite chiot and give her a good scrubbing after she has dinner. Chapeau's job as your valet is so much more important. And I promise she'll return to you smelling like roses."

Chapeau breathed a sigh of relief, mouthing a "thank you" to a grinning Lumiere.

"Does our Mademoiselle have a name?" He inquired, watching a grateful Chapeau hurry to dress the Prince.

"Heavens no." Ansell scoffed. "Me? With a _dog_? I'm not keeping her. Someone else can name her when they take her away."

Lumiere raised a skeptical brow.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Oh, no reason, Master. No reason."

* * *

It was dark out. Mrs. Potts had insisted that a big meal, more alcohol, and a heap of cake would make them feel better. Unsure of whether it did any good, Belle gazed at the night sky, tugging on her cloak while Gustave's pony pulled the cart along the road. The village glowing as they approached, promising warmth and safety at home.

They never spoke.

* * *

"Son."

Ansell turned slowly, stiffening to the voice. It had been an exhaustive seven-course dinner, full of idle chit chat and stupid, sheltered opinions about the state of the people of France and he was working his way through his digestif rather quickly.

The Duke came over, an extravagant man if there ever was one. Stopping in front of his heir he leaned on his cane and studied him keenly.

"Your Majesty, are you not having a good time?" The prince asked, draining his glass and desperately wanting to get out of all of the makeup.

"I am, but I can't help but see something peculiar." Staring at Ansell, eyes burning into him he said under his breath "I've watched quite a few eligible young ladies present themselves to you. And each time, you've ignored them."

Sighing heavily, he plucked a fresh drink from a tray gliding by. "I haven't had the appetite."

"I find that hard to believe, you used to be such a cad."

"Things change." He watched the gears in his father's head turning and took a deep breath. "Is there any particular reason for this discussion? Or am I simply displeasing you with my lack of virility?"

"You're to go to Paris in the morning with your brothers." Clearing his throat, he scanned the room. So many lovely young women to sample and there stood his son, bored, dead eyed, and seemingly ready to join a convent.

"May I ask why I'm going to Paris with such lovely company?" Ansell stared out into the middle distance, fingers itching for Maurice's sketch that he kept tucked in a pocket near his heart.

"To get some fresh air in you and to get you into a city." Leaning in he continued. "Seeing as you've been out in the woods for ten years, I thought it might do you well to see the sights." It was clear his son actually agreed with him for once. "Leon suggested shopping, and I agree. Our purses are full from the tax-"

His head whipped towards his father, fire rising up in him. "The tax? _My_ tax? Is that where all that money's gone to while I've been away?" He began to growl. "You hoard it for all your frippery-"

"It's ours to do with as we please." He hissed sternly. "And you can't blame me for being the one who imposed the increase-"

"This is foul-"

"This is _yours._ "

Snorting a whuff of air out through his nose Ansell's jaw tensed.

"Now a nobleman needs to spend his wealth to show his prosperity and standing and so spend it you shall." He ordered. "I don't give a damn what you do with it but you're going. Even if I have to throw you in the carriage myself."

"Where are we going?"

They both turned as Lucette sidled up, sharp and curious.

"I'm sorry to cut in." Her eyes went from her commanding brother to his defiant son. "It's just I haven't seen France in ages and I always enjoy a jaunt."

Ansell cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "Auntie, we're headed to Paris for a bit of shopping. Would you care to come?"

The Duke began to stew, and it drew a small, pleased smile onto her rouged lips. "Why that sounds lovely. My dear husband gave me a rather large purse to fritter away, sweet man, and my grandchildren demand presents."

"Why sister, you do love inviting yourself." The Duke mused, rankled by her mere presence.

"Only to things of your creation, Your Grace." Voice pleasant, if not cheery at souring his mood. "And I have not seen enough of my nephews, I would so love to catch up."

Oh, his father was furious. Bless his Aunt. "Then it's settle. Aunt Lucette, we'll escort you to Paris. Where we'll all throw money into the wind."

"Very well." The Duke sighed. "After Paris, you're to meet me in the stables, Anselme. We'll be purchasing new horses for your castle."

"Delightful." He grunted.

They watched the Duke slip away to his mistress and more important people. Ansell's mouth a pleased, lopsided smile. "You do love pestering him."

"You have no idea." She replied, watching her brother carefully, fingers fiddling with her glass of wine. "You're like a phantom in this palace, Nephew. I feel like I only see you in fleeting moments."

"I prefer a more solitary existence this days." He said, feeling too hot and constricted in his clothes. "Though I apologize for leaving so abruptly last night."

"It's quite alright, you're not used to crowds or attention I gather-"

"Decidedly not." Ansell sipped.

"Though you missed your gift." she finished "My husband sent a case of scotch as a little welcome back gift. Finest in Britain, spared no expense." Lucette watched him carefully "Have you ever had scotch?"

"Can't say I have." He smiled, thankful for more simple conversation.

"Different than French spirits. Strong and smooth, tastes a bit of smoke, not fruity or sweet. It's an experience."

"I look forward to trying some. Perhaps with you?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way." She shifted her weight. "It was good to see you this morning, as brief as it was. I noticed you take the runt. Bit of a defender of the weak."

"I dislike things being picked on. Being made lesser than, written off." He sniffed. "One could say I have experience." Listlessly his gaze wandered the room, desperately wanting Belle to appear in her summer dress from the celebration. Bright, sweet, playful, lighting up every room she graced. Taking a long pull of his liquor and forgetting about his aunt, he rocked on his heels and thought about his love.

"Did he write you off?" She asked carefully.

Brought back to the present, Ansell scoffed. "Of course he did. The only reason he came around was because I could be married off to the highest bidder. If not, I'd be as undesirable as that little pup you brought over. When he came to see after I was-" stopping himself, Ansell took another drink. "He's just glad he can treat me like his prized stallion again."

"I'm sorry he treats you so." Lucette sighed sincerely, the Maestro keying up his orchestra in the distance.

"I'm used to it by now." Gazing into his drink the Prince watched the liquid lazily slip and slide against the crystal. "We all are, it's the way business is conducted in this family. I suppose it's different in your house."

She pursed her lips. Dipping her chin down her head nodded ever so slightly. "My children's marriages were arranged, Ansell. But we love them."

"Hmn."

"But not every aspect of your life is loveless now is it?"

Ansell looked up, deep in thought, small smirk giving it away. "As you know it's a rather recent development."

"Everyone needs a bit of love." She told him.

"You can go without for a long time though." His mind wandered back through the paths of all those lost years. The pain slowly winding its way in, the heavy heartache of it all. The air felt heavy suddenly, the weight of the room slowly crushing. Why couldn't she be near, she'd chase away the demons. They did that for one another.

He was hurting, she could see it in the sharp blue eyes. "I can't imagine going without for so long. I suppose you were like the great Minotaur, stuck in your labyrinth."

"But according to the gossip I ate Theseus." looking away he set his jaw. Eyes narrowing as the pit of his stomach tied itself into knots. "For the record, I didn't kill him." Ansell muttered, a hint of bitterness edging in. "He shot me three times, and then fell to his death. But that wasn't me, Aunt Lucette. I never killed him, even when I had the chance."

"I never thought you did." She could see how being presumed guilty without even a trial was eating at him. "How on earth did you live after being shot three times?"

Bowing his head closed his eyes. The biggest demon of them all from that night. "I didn't. I died."

Her eyes widened.

"But I was brought back. By Belle, and a bit of magic." Her nephew's expressive face looked as if he had been stabbed in the gut. "I was never the monster in that fight. I was despondent at first because Belle had left… I didn't fight back, Auntie. I had no reason to. But when she returned?" He finally looked up at her. Lonely and in love. "All I wanted was to go to her. And when I did? He shot me in the back and left me for dead." His eyes suddenly blazed, hurt at their words. "He was no great Capitaine and I was no great Beast."

Lucette glanced down into her glass, clear as day he was getting something off his chest no one had ever allowed him to. "He sounds cruel."

"He was. But he fought in the war and was good at killing the enemy so he was a hero." Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. "And now he's like a ghost, an occasional haunting. Reminder of the darkest night. For both of us."

"Sounds like it." his aunt paused, surveying the room to look for a door. The others in the space oblivious to the prince and his welling anxiety. "What do you say we go walk in the gardens and take in the air?" She suggested. "Relieve you of this ghost for awhile with the talk of frivolous things."

"I'd like that."

* * *

"Belle are you alright?" Maurice stood up at the sight of her. It was late, and he had wondered why her trip to the castle had been so long. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

Wordlessly Belle hung her cloak, slowly shaking her head. "I didn't see the ghost." She finally corrected. "But one came back."

* * *

 _A/N: We're almost at chapter 20! That's_ craaazy _. I think when we hit 20 we need to celebrate with some one shot(s) over at Two Very Small Storms._

 _As always, thank you so much for all the comments, kudos, follows, and everything else in between. If you have any questions, comments, corrections, I read all the comments and answer most of them so please let me know what's on your mind._


	20. Chapter 20

Ansell glanced up from his village report as Lumiere and a footman came in with a coffee setting. The morning light was dim and early, the birds just beginning to trill outside on the balcony as the Prince began his day.

Lumiere bent over and slipped the expensive, twisted red cord off of the pup's neck. Free of its lead, the dog bounced over, snuffling Ansell's heel.

Looking over the sheets of paper he frowned.

"I just took her out for her morning constitutional." His friend explained as the footman set coffee and breakfast out on their glimmering silver tray.

"I saw the basket and blanket near the hearth." He said, watching as the footman set a bowl of scraps with his medicine mixed next to the chair, the pup bolting it down. "Giving her a bed?"

"She needs somewhere to sleep," Lumiere noted as the footman slipped out and Chapeau entered. "Would you rather she sleep at the foot of your bed? Or in zee kennels?"

Curling his lip a bit to his fuzzy problem, he set down his report for the village and took a cup of coffee. "I haven't the faintest idea what to buy on this shopping trip."

"Suits, shoes, jewelry?" Lumiere supplied.

"I don't need any of that. I have mountains of clothes." He grumbled. While Paris sounded enticing, his last glimpse of it at night in the windmill with Belle, the spending money frivolously aspect was another thing entirely.

"Clothes that are ten seasons old. A few updated pieces would go a long way, sire." Chapeau suggested. "I believe we spoke of it before we departed the castle?"

"You're right. It would have to be practical." He told them, shifting in his suit in discomfort. "I can't stand these clothes being so bright and so tight.

"What about for Noel?" Lumiere offered. "Don't you want to look nice for your Mademoiselle then? You don't have to be too extravagant, but you should wear something formal." Grinning suggestively he continued. "She does love it when you're a bit dressed up. I believe I've heard her say you look very dashing, Master."

Mulling it over, the corner of his mouth tugged into a lopsided smile. That look she gave him when he dressed up. She had even given a hint of it when he had been all fur and claws as they stood on the staircase. That warm and lucky sensation that would spread throughout him when she did so quickly following suit.

"And you should get Belle some gifts as well."

"Alright, that's a few things. But he's going to demand I spend a significant sum, knowing him." Taking a sip of his drink, the Prince thrummed his fingers on the chair's arm.

"Buy what you feel you need." Lumiere shrugged. "Since you struggle with wants."

Exhaling, he furrowed his brows, deep in thought.

Chapeau, laying out the Master's suit for the day in Paris, stared at one lone silk stocking in confusion. Holding it aloft he began to search around the room.

Perking up, Ansell brightened and turned to Lumiere. "I think I've got it. Could you possibly run a few errands for me?"

"Of course, Master. Just hand me the list of what's needed and I'll pick up whatever it is when we're in the city." Pleased the Prince was figuring out his spending, the maître d' rocked on his heels.

The puppy pranced past Chapeau with the stocking in its mouth, head up proudly, tail wagging.

The valet's eyes widened.

Rising up, Ansell headed over to the desk. Taking a pen and paper, he dipped the nib into the ink pot and jotted down his items. "While you're at it, go on ahead and buy any supplies you need for Noel."

Chapeau grabbed one end of the stocking.

The hound let out a growl and yanked.

Lumiere did his best not to laugh at his friend's battle as the Master was too busy writing his list to notice. "Wonderful, Sire."

"I know Belle is looking forward to it, it's her favorite Holiday. She's due for some spoiling, seeing as last year during Noel I was too-"

"Surly?"

Dipping the nib back into the pot he paused his writing for a moment. "I was going to say beastly but I suppose that works too."

Shaking it's head vigorously the little black pup letting out a playful snarl as it awkwardly leapt backward. The sound of silk ripping horrifying Chapeau so much he let out a high pitched gasp.

Ansel glanced up curiously.

Managing to get the stocking back Chapeau quickly turned away.

Not invested in Chapeau's anxiety, the Prince got up and handed the maître d' the piece of paper.

Taking it and unfolding it Lumiere glanced over the items, a wide grin spreading across his face as his brows raised. "This is quite generous, Master."

"I need to take care of my people." He smiled back.

"Well, you'll be making a lot of people very-" seeing the last item, he chuckled.

"Yes?"

"For this last one, someone who would be comfortable with a woman, no?" Lumiere asked, amused at the final item for his errands.

"And the best you can find." Ansell nodded his head, excited at the prospect. "At the very least as well read as our Mademoiselle, I suspect she'll need to be challenged."

"But of course, Master." Pleased with his marching orders, Lumiere tucked the list into his breast pocket. "I'll have the stable boys prepare a horse so I can go about the city while you are occupied with buying your wares. I know Madame Marie-Lucette's lady's maid will be attending, shall I ask that she see to you as well?"

"If it's no trouble to my aunt and her lady, then that would be excellent." Watching Lumiere excuse himself to prepare for his duties, Ansell let out a satisfied breath. "Chapeau." he turned, frowning as his dog pattered over, nails clicking on the floor. "Since you're staying behind, please take care of the pup. She'll need to go out a few times."

Chapeau clenched his fists, lip quivering as he did his best not to glare at the enemy. "Of course, Sire."

* * *

Maurice came inside to see his daughter rather listlessly gazing at her breakfast, pushing it around on her plate.

"Did you sleep, dear?" He asked, concerned about the dark circles rimming her eyes

Shaking her head she sighed wearily. Most nights it was hard to sleep without the weight of Ansell on the other side of the bed. However, Belle had needed him the most that night. The safety he brought with him, big strong arms enveloping her, his warmth and deep soothing voice. It was so much easier to face those memories with him. "I'm going to see if Gustave wants to start his reading lessons and if Stephane wants to start teaching me how to fence."

"Good distractions," Maurice noted.

"I was going to try to see if anyone needed things repaired, but I don't think I can talk to anyone else." She confessed, looking up at her father her stood next to her, a supportive hand on her shoulder.

Belle leaned against his arm quietly.

* * *

"I don't know, just find them."

"But Your Grace, it's been-"

"They couldn't have gone far. And he's far too clever to have died after all these years." The Duke snapped at one of his attendants, the man scurrying out of the bureau as Ansell slid inside. He studied his Prince shrewdly from his magnificent desk, paperwork neatly piled and sorted around him. "You're half dressed."

"Dressed for travel, Father. I don't know how anyone gets on with this humidity in all of their makeup and wigs." He corrected, clasping his hands behind his back. Chapeau had been beside himself when he had asked for his hair back and no powder. "Besides, it's not like anyone else will be seeing me other than family."

"You try me, boy."

Shrugging, he watched his father's jaw twitch to such flippant behavior. "I've always been stubborn, I know I've been gone for awhile but I would have thought you'd remember that." looking around the room, his father's wig cascading and glimmering in the sunlight, Ansell took a deep breath and opened his mouth to ask why he had been called for.

Uncle Hugon bumbled in, his family in tow. Julien gawking at Ansell like he was a curious new toy to break.

Ansell glowered at his cousin.

"You don't scare me." He muttered.

Raising an expressive brow, the Prince turned back to his father curiously.

"Your Grace!" Hugon came up to the front as his eldest brother gestured him forward. Taking a deep bow, the husky man flashed an over eager grin. "What an honor-"

"Oh shut up, you twit." The Duke barely even gave the effort to snarl. "You were always the stupidest, most translucent nitwit out of all of us."

Hugon's face slackened, mustache twitching in disbelief.

"You've been at Versailles all of two days." He continued, cooly reading over some letters. "You spoke to Prince Anselme once, made an absolute ass of yourself, and frankly, your boy insulted His Grace."

"He's just so young-" Marie-Therese stepped forward.

"Youth is no excuse for not knowing how to treat royalty properly." He sniffed, not even getting up from his desk, not even bothering to meet their eyes as he wrote on a piece of paper. "Also you think you're so very clever to try to waltz into to court and slyly wrestle the Dukeship from my heir. But it's all anyone is laughing about." The Duke finally lifted his eyes up and watched them, necks red with embarrassment as their makeup was so thick on their faces. "And as entertaining as it would be for the rest of the court for you to stay and clumsily try to fit in, frankly, I tire of you."

"Brother!" Hugon boomed.

The Duke stood up, slowly straightening out his jacket. Looking like a cat bored with a mouse. "If you don't leave on your own, I'll have you dragged out behind a carriage."

The family inched back.

Clinging to the side of the room, Ansell watched everything unfold intently.

"Fall in line, Hugon." He commanded. "Go back to your manor, and your spirits, and your parties where you're the most interesting person." Eyes narrowing he finished with a growl. "And if I ever hear about you sniffing around for a title again, I'll ruin you."

Fat lip quivering, Uncle Hugon clenched his fist. "I'm your brother, You Grace."

"So?" Turning, he addressed his son. "That'll be all, Anselme."

Stiffly walking out of the bureau Ansell headed briskly towards the front of the palace as Uncle Hugon and his family suddenly found themselves being greeted by guards.

"I see His Grace is throwing around his weight." Aunt Lucette said in the hall, watching her brother huff and puff at the indignity of being removed from court.

"Just reminding everyone of their place. That we're subject to his whims and moods." He told her dryly. Meeting up with his aunt he offered an arm. "Shall we?"

"To be fair, your uncle was and is the most obtuse apple to ever fall from the tree." She confessed as she was escorted towards their trip to the city. "Ever since we were children he's had as much sense as a fish trying to get out of a bucket, and out of the five of us was the only one stupid enough to challenge your father outright."

Ansell stifled back a chuckle, staring at his aunt and clearly not believing her proclamation.

"Please, I live in Britain and I'm merely a pest, a thorn," Lucette exclaimed. "I _needle_."

"Yes, it's admirable that you've turned that into a sport."

* * *

"Do you think you can manage?" Belle asked Gustave as he held a children's primer. The three had taken their horses and a basket of lunch far away from the village and to a nearby meadow. Shrouded by trees, a creek gurgling nearby, they felt safe from the mess that was about to befall Villeneuve.

Furrowed his brows as he sat on the blanket under a tree, Gustave squinted thoughtfully at the book's letters. "This one's about a cat?"

"That's good! That's very good." She grinned at him. "If you have any trouble, just call me over and I'll help."

"Look at you, Gus." Stephane said proudly, patting a shoulder. Moving in, he hesitated and glanced over at Belle.

Rising to her feet Belle rolled her eyes at them, the breeze making her skirts sway. "You think I'm the one to judge?"

Gustave fiddled with the page of the book, cheeks flush. "Well…"

"He was furry with paws and a tail." She reminded the pair. "You two are the _least_ scandalous relationship."

Stealing a quick, encouraging kiss from his Gus, Stephane jumped up and grabbed two swords. With a flourish, he handed Belle one of them.

"Alright, Mademoiselle, shall we begin our lesson?"

* * *

"Come on, Anselme. Don't you want to spend some of that hard earned royal pension?" Leon asked enticingly as the carriage rocked through Paris.

Ansell gazed out over the cacophony of the city, a city he yearned for during all his years locked away and suddenly found harsh. Too stark, too loud, too dirty, too many things vying for the attention of his heightened senses. "I don't see why we had to go when the town around the castle is full of artisans."

"Don't you miss Paris? You've had so many ill-gotten adventures here." Francis supplied.

"Most of which ended in the nude." Francis reminded him. "Remember that one time? They found you astride the statue with just a waistcoat on?"

Ansell stared at him humorlessly.

"We can have our pick of wares that can't be made by the same tailors and craftsmen everyone else uses." The Viscount explained with a toothy grin. "You should purchase some jewelry, or clothes, or have some fine furniture made to fill that terrible cavern you call a castle." watching the heir lift a handkerchief to his nose to a particularly strong smell wafting through the breeze, he turned to the Marquise. "Madame, is there anything you need?"

"I promised my granddaughters some silk for new dresses." Aunt Lucette replied. "And my daughter some silk for dresses. Really, I just need bolts of fabric and some toy soldiers for the boys."

"Shoes are always a good choice, Ansell." Francis offered. "I know father will be taking you to a stable later for horses to replenish your stock. You could always have some new tack made."

Ears pricking to the idea of tack, he cleared his throat from the dust of the streets. "I do need some new suits for home, I spoke to my valet about it." He confessed, his face slackening as the most ostentatious tailor shop in all of Paris appeared from the window. The wheels of their ride slowing to a stop.

"Suits it is then." Leon agreed as the coachmen opened the door and turned down the stairs. "I hear they use rhinestones here, exquisite beadwork-" climbing out of the carriage with Francis. Turning, they saw Anselme and Aunt Lucette hesitating.

"Anselme, aren't you coming?" Francis asked

"Auntie, didn't you say you needed fabric for your girls?" He asked raising, puckish brow.

Lucette caught on, nodding her head demurely. "They each want a bolt, no two can match."

Sticking an arm out the window he signaled the driver to take off. "You two go on and enjoy yourselves, I'll escort our Marquise on her errands." Before they could protest, the carriage jostled away, leaving his two brothers to their haute couture. Pleased, Ansell opened the door and hung out the side, telling the driver their new plans. Swinging back in and shutting the door he allowed himself to relax while he sunk into the velvet cushions.

"You're a right wicked one sometimes." His Aunt's lips were pulled into a wry smile.

"Are you telling me you're going to miss Leon's winning personality?"

"No, but Francis is tolerable, if not pleasant."

"Well, if I must spend buckets of money, I want to be able to spend it my way." He divulged. "And that certainly doesn't involve squandering it on jewel encrusted jackets."

Aunt Lucette's brows raised.

"What?"

"That's the last thing I'd ever think I'd hear from you." Flicking open her fan, she cleared the air around her nose.

"I have some more practical things on my list and I suspect you'd be the perfect shopping partner." He told her with a hint of a smile.

"Well, the British are rather practical." Smoothing her skirt, she glanced out the window. "And after twenty-eight years it has rubbed off on me."

"Let's go get the bolts of fabric first. I'll need your help with choosing some of my own."

"What are you planning, dear nephew?"

"To take care of my family." He told her sincerely "My other one." Hanging out the window he titled his head up to study the sky, tan from the smoke and the dust.

"Would this be your staff?"

"It is." He nodded, mind wandering to the thought of how alive Belle would be in the city, ready for an adventure. That sweet, excited smile on her mouth as she walked with him. "I need to take care of my staff. They've been neglected for years, partially my fault, partially father's. It's amazing they didn't run away screaming the moment they had all changed back."

"How generous of you, Nephew." She said.

"I don't see as generous, just the right thing to do." Overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the city, he retreated inside. "I don't remember it being this dirty."

"You've been in the woods for a decade, things change." Lucette reminded him. "Also, one can grow used to the countryside."

"Suppose so." He reckoned Belle would need to go to the opera, and he would need to find a place for cuisine. Then again, he just wanted to return home to her; to clear blue skies and the murmurs of the forest. Rolling meadows and fields of flowers. That lovely, sun kissed face that was too good for him.

Lucette watched the Prince, that far away look in the blue eyes that meant he was miles gone and with the girl that broke the curse. "I never cared for how my brother treated staff." She broke the silence, looking him over as he came back to Paris. Was this really her greedy nephew? "He was happy to spend money on everything but those who needed it the most. Everything indulgent, like a monkey hoarding a shiny object. Your mother was always so giving, I suspect they stayed on out of respect to her."

"Well, the deserve better by me and I aim to try to fix that with you today. I have ten years to make up for. At least before my father pulls me away to look at some idiotically expensive horses." turning to her, he stared at her hopefully. "Will you be my partner in crime, Aunt Lucette?"

"My dear boy, you've found the right accomplice." she let out a light, cheery cackle.

* * *

Chapeau exited the palace, reluctantly holding the red cord as the black hound trotted out to relieve itself.

The dog gazed up at him, panting happily.

The valet's mouth turned down, eyes shooting daggers at the creature that ruined a perfectly good pair os silk stockings. "He doesn't like you either you know."

Clumsily flopping to sit, she scratched an ear.

Sighing at the burden of caring for the horrible flea bag, Chapeau turned to the sound of galloping hooves. The horse, slick with sweat, skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust.

The stable boy lept down, knees buckling, causing him to fall. Gazing up at attendants rushing over to him, he panted and looked around frantically. "I'm here for Prince Anselme!" He gasped.

He gawked at the boy as the young man dug a sealed envelope out of his jacket.

"Someone tell the Duke!" A man ordered.

"No!" Chapeau rushed in, pulling the hound along as he forced his way through the crowd. "He's our boy! I'll take him." Grabbing the stable boy as the horse was walked away, he hauled the wiry lad to his feet.

Coughing to get more air in his lungs, he weaved and waved the envelope. "Monsieur Chapeau, I have word-"

"Shut up."

"But sir, something terrible-"

"Will you be quiet?!" Taking the envelope he stuffed it in his breast pocket. "Don't draw attention! The last thing the Master needs is his father knowing something's wrong!" Dragging him away, puppy in tow, the valet glanced around suspiciously to make sure no one was watching.

* * *

"I think she'll find you dashing in that." Lucette exclaimed as they left a more conservative tailor. Their other purchases were being sent to Versailles and they were finishing their spending spree with some clothes for the Prince.

"I certainly hope so." Helping her into the carriage, he climbed in. "Thank you for assisting. My valet would drape me in the most ostentatious materials known to man if it was up to him, and my family is a bunch of dandies."

"You're rather understated these days." She noted as the carriage lurched off to find his brothers. "Is that a fashion she prefers to see you in?"

Ansell rested his arm against the length of the carriage's open window, peering out at the rabble going about their day like so many ants on a hill. "We go about our days preferably in casual attire," He explained. "That said, Belle does love a good ball, and she does like me looking formal, minus some of the more frivolous accouterments-"

"The wig and powder?" She guessed. "And I suspect she's the same?"

A dreamy smile slowly began to creep across his features. "She has the most beautiful brown hair, like roasted chestnuts." He began tenderly "It's always up or back when we go out in a more formal setting…" The blue eyes sparkled at the thought of his love. "Her eyes are like chocolate, and they're so keen. You can tell they're always five steps ahead of everyone." Shaking his head to get it out of the clouds, he turned to his aunt who was taking it all in. "I'm sorry, Auntie. I get offly stupid when it comes to Belle."

"Love makes us do funny things." She dismissed, looking down at her hands, her perfectly well-manicured nails. "Though your vagueness leaves one wanting. Simply adds to the mystery of why she didn't come to court with you."

Hemming and hawing, fighting his natural defensiveness, Ansell blurted out. "Because her father is an artist in Villeneuve and she's considered a peasant by these people's standards." He finished testily.

She leaned back. "I see."

"I detest this-" The Prince bristled "This parade of stations and titles. Father's constant reminder she'd never be welcome."

He was fighting his anger and heartache, it was plain as the nose on his handsome face. "And your love with her is so true."

"I just want to go home to her." He swallowed. "We've been through so much together and I just lay awake at night. Aching, reliving everything we've worked so hard to move on from."

"You're not leaving her forever," Lucette reassured. "What? A few more weeks?"

Shutting his eyes Ansell sighed heavily while the weight began to press on his chest. It felt too long, and the air was suddenly stifling as he pulled at his collar.

Her lips twitched. "You know, for a lovesick man who does an awful lot of pining and moping, you haven't given me enough information, Ansell." Getting his attention, Lucette pressed on. "How long have you know this Belle? And more importantly when are you two dears taking vows, giving my brother a heart attack?"

Ansell laughed at the distraction, shaking his head. "Oh yes, that would be sooo well received. The Prince and the Peasant Girl. Can you imagine the wedding announcement at court? The scandal it would cause? Who do you think he'd throw in the dungeon first?"

"Oh, nephew, it wouldn't be all bad. I'd send you some lovely china for your newlywed's cell." She smirked into her fan.

Blushing at the thought of Belle, a grin brightened his features. His ferocious, sweet, wickedly smart Darling. "Well, if I must give more information we've known each other for over a year. Met last July."

"When you were still particular looking?"

"Yes, and I was still a rather nasty piece of work." Rubbing his thumb over the window sill frame he wet his lips. "But she stayed with me, thick and thin. Had so many chances to run away and never look back."

"Sounds like a keeper."

"But not in matching his and her shackles." He huffed under his breath.

"It can't be all that bad. There must be away to keep you two lovebirds together." she took notice of her nephew not responding to the thought. "So what's she like? Come on, you can't leave an old gossip like me hanging like this, nephew."

Ansell grinned to himself, mind wandering away to far more lovely thoughts. "Well, she likes to read-"

* * *

Belle set her book down, sighing as Maurice looked up from his still life. His daughter, normally busy and curious, stared out the window forlornly. The sun was sinking over the village towards the horizon, inching towards night, cooling the air in the process.

Slowly she got up and went to his work station, bussing away an empty teacup. The early afternoon out with Gustave and Stephane had only been a short distraction from her worry and ongoing heartache. "I'll begin dinner, Papa. You keep on working."

"Thank you, Dear." It broke his heart, seeing her so low. "Do you want to talk?"

After a beat of struggling with the words and battling herself, she relented. The words feeling like they were crashing through a dam. "This would be so much easier with him here." She explained, heading over to the kitchen. "We've been around one another for over a year. Even when we were fighting like cats and dogs, we were still under the same roof... learning how to support one another. And these last four months?" Letting out a scoff the brown eyes gazed up at the ceiling before taking out the dinnerware. "We know how to get through the hard times together." Belle stared at the bowl in her hand. The wearing paint of the little farmhouses and countrysides, the little chips and cracks webbing across the rim. "That's what we're good at, facing it all together."

"You know, Belle." Maurice set his paint brush aside. "It doesn't help that you spent an entire month either being forced away from Ansell, trying to help Ansell, or planning how to help Ansell. And now you're apart again and with the seas being rough, you still focus on how much you miss him."

Brown eyes meeting his own, she watched him pull his glasses further down the length of his nose.

"My dear, your entire mindset has revolved around Ansell's future. I think you need to focus on your own." He hinted firmly. "It might be a better distraction from all of this Gaston mess. Planning for _your_ future."

Leaning back against the wooden counter, Belle ruminated over the words. "That isn't a good distraction." she forced out.

"Why not?"

Wrapping her arms defensively around herself Belle took a moment before answering tensely. "Papa, it'll only make things worse."

"How? I don't see you as a housewife." He hinted.

"No, of course not."

"Belle, what do you want?" He asked gently.

There was a long, achingly uncomfortable stretch of silence. It was clear to Maurice that his withdrawn daughter wanted something, yet refused to voice it. Pursing her lips, hands worrying the strap of her dress, the brown eyes darted in thought. Studying the grain of the kitchen table she had built a few years back, her stomach sunk to her boots.

"It's alright to say what you want to do-"

"I don't think I'll be allowed to do it." She finally in a hushed tone.

Tilting his head to the side Maurice gently prompted. "You can still say it."

Belle refused to look him in the eye.

Her father sighed. "You know enough about repairing clocks and building gearwork that you could always do repairs?" He offered. "It pays well, and you can work from home."

She nodded absently.

It was clear to him that wasn't the answer. "Just say it, Dear. Let it out."

"They'd never allow a woman to teach." Belle finally mustered, letting out a sad scoff as her face suddenly felt hot. "They wouldn't even let me go to school, Papa, so why would they let me be a teacher?"

There was so much sadness in the big brown eyes it was heart breaking. Maurice rose up and walked over. "Oh Belle,"

"It's so much easier to help him with what he wants, because he can get it." She confessed, tears threatening the corners if her eyes.

"Knowing you, there's a way." He encouraged her, walking over to her.

"I've never even _had_ a real teacher, why would they let me be one?" there was bitterness there, something Maurice rarely heard from her. "Maybe it's best I just focus on clocks." Moving away from him she covered her mouth with her palm, eyes stinging as Belle fought to stay strong. "I told you it would make things worse." She muttered, grabbing her cloak from it's hook. "I'm sorry, I need to get some air."

Maurice stood in the kitchen guiltily as the door shut.

* * *

Ansel sighed heavily as he entered his chambers. Kicking off his heels, he shut his eyes as footsteps approached the door.

"Your Grace," Lumiere announced himself.

"My errands?" He asked.

"Done, Master." He helped Ansell out of his jacket. "And I saw to your purchases, everything should be sent to the castle in the next few days."

He straightened out his waistcoat. "Excellent. The sooner the better, I believe our family could use a distraction."

"I agree. Are you going to dinner?"

The prince shook his head, waving the thought away with his hand. "I'm far too tired to muster the energy to pretend to be extroverted. Could you have dinner brought up? Whatever they're serving for the others will work fine." Turning around he searched his chambers in befuddlement. Something was amiss. "Have you seen Chapeau?"

"No Y-"

The door opened and the hound hopped in, skidding across the ornate floors to leap in front of the Prince who ignored her.

Chapeau came in quickly. "Your Grace!"

* * *

"I didn't think we'd see you here."

"I went for a ride and thought I'd stop by." Belle managed, keeping to herself how many times she had cried out of pure frustration. Pulling off her cloak, she forced a smile at Mrs. Potts.

It was clear something was amiss with their girl. Whether it was Gaston or something else on top of that stress, the Englishwoman didn't know as she took the cloak. "So close to sunset? Should we set you a place for supper-"

"No, no." She sniffled, hoping her eyes weren't too red. "But thank you. I just wanted to head upstairs and get a few things I forgot. Perhaps pick up some new books."

"Of course, Dearie." Mrs. Potts smiled sympathetically. "You head on up, let me know if you need a spot of tea."

* * *

"Mon Dieu, what's wrong?" Quickly storming over, an envelope was thrust out to Ansell.

"I haven't read it yet, Master." The valet announced hurriedly. "But the rider arrived this afternoon as white as a sheet. He said something's wrong at the castle and Mr. Potts ordered him here. The boy ruined two horses to get to Versailles as quickly as possible."

Breaking the wax seal Ansell pulled out the letter, quickly unfolding it and reading the news.

"I feared the Duke may want to know about whatever issue has arisen so I took the boy before his men could be called." Chapeau explained, he and Lumiere watching the blue eyes sweep back and forth across the letter. "He's in the servants quarters resting."

Fingers gripping the paper tighter and causing it to crease, Ansell's jaw tensed as each word hit him like a brick.

Watching the anger visibly rise in the Prince, Lumiere took a tentative step forward. "Master, what is it?"

Blinking back his rage he turned away. "He just won't go away." He muttered to himself.

"Sire?"

"Gaston." Ansell barked, taking a deep breath to try to steady himself. His muscles taut and unyielding to the attempt. "His body's been found, and Belle is having to deal with it by her own."

Chapeau clutched his chest.

With a few long strides, he was at his desk, taking out paper and pen, furiously writing. "We will pay for the service-"

"Master!" The valet exclaimed, disgust in his tone. "He killed you and nearly ruined us all-"

"I know." A growl began in the pocket of this throat. "But it would go a long way if we at least acknowledge the fact that he was a leader of the community… I dunno… something about respect." Handwriting jagged and quick, he began to curl his lip to the information. With one wrong stroke the nib ripped through the parchment and he snapped. "DAMN!" Hurling it across the room Ansell roared, red and wild eyed. "THAT DAMN MAN! THAT MONSTER! WE JUST GOT OVER HIM!" Raking his hands through his hair he panted and growled in a rage. "And now Belle's facing all of this- This- This- REMINDER OF A NIGHTMARE BY HERSELF."

"Master-" Lumiere began gently.

"WHAT?!" Whirling around and seeing his friend, Ansell's began to relax. Remembering how he needed to not fly off the handle, he took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Lumiere."

Speaking gently, he hoped to help Ansell relax. "There's nothing to apologize for, Master. That night may have ended happily, but the rest of it was something we would all wish to forget."

"That's not an excuse to yell at you, friend." Taking another deep breath and leaning against the desktop, he planted his palms flat on the surface to brace himself and refrain from destroying anything else in the apartment.

It hurt Lumiere to see the Prince so distraught, anxiety and anger he had worked so hard on to curtail before leaving for court surfacing once more. "Sire, I know that those memories are painful for you both, and you've worked hard to get over zhem together." He replied. "However, Belle has the castle and her father. Perhaps they can help her feel less alone in the situation."

Still distraught over the news it was clear the Prince wasn't about to buy into the thought. "Perhaps it's best I'm left by myself to craft my response."

* * *

Belle carefully folded a dress she had forgotten in the royal chambers and tucked it into her satchel. Reaching over, she took a hairbrush and other assorted items resting on the table next ot the bed that had also been accidentally left behind. It was so easy to forget the little things, especially when the chambers was a second home. Slowly taking her time to pack everything, secretly wishing Ansell would come in through the doors, hold her, and help her work through all of the worries, Belle kept herself steady. She felt guilty about her father, knowing he was only trying to help by offering a productive distraction. However, she had to get away. And the best place to hide for a bit was the one that felt safest.

Pausing, remembering, she slowly turned to face a large, ornate wardrobe.

Ansell's wardrobe.

* * *

His men left and Ansell finally sunk into his chair, staring at the letter with Belle's soft, round handwriting. Seeing the envelope, something still in it, he reached over and picked it up, carefully turning it upside down over his palm.

A ring attached to a blue ribbon tumbled out.

* * *

Gently pulling out one of Ansells shirts, Belle held it up to her nose and took a deep, long smell of the fabric. Suddenly he was there with her, and she let out a small, sad sob.

Pulling it to her chest, she held it tightly and steadied her breath.

* * *

Shutting his eyes be let out a soft chuckle. The simple little band she wore on her finger tied onto one of her longer ribbons. Bringing the favor up to his mouth, he kissed it. Missing her all the more.

Bringing the favor up to his mouth, he kissed it.


	21. Chapter 21

"I think that's everything," Ansell said as he inspected the carriages, patting one of the new horses' shoulders. There were three wagons carefully surrounded by his mounted guards to keep robbers at bay. Looking up and down the line, he checked the boxes and the goods headed for his castle.

"The list has been checked twice, Master," Lumiere reassured, well aware the Prince was excited about the prospect of sending gifts home.

"Good." Being nosed by a little bay tied to one of the wagons, he smiled and rubbed its jaw. "You're going to make someone happy." He told the filly, petting the velvet nose as it nickered softly. "I think after the trials of yesterday everyone could use some gifts."

"It'll brighten a lot of faces." He agreed, noticing Chapeau reluctantly holding onto the pup's leash as one would hold a chamber pot that had been in the sun. The little dog bouncing and sniffing the wooden wheels curiously.

"Quite a few odds and ends."

Turning to his brother's voice, the Prince found Francis and Lucette heading towards his caravan.

"You've been a busy boy." His aunt noted, eyes moving up and down the line.

"I took spending my sum seriously." Pulling the steps down he opened the door to the most luxurious carriage and peered inside. "Gentleman, I wanted to thank you for your services before you headed off to my castle."

The pair, dressed in their finest, bowed the best they could. "The honor is all ours, Your Grace. We're glad we could be of service."

"My housekeeper, Mrs. Potts, will see to your needs." He reassured them. "I wish you a nice trip." Climbing down, he walked up to the head driver, pulling a stack of letters out of his breast pocket. "Make sure these get to the right people."

"Yes, Your Grace." He tipped his tricorn, large feathers flouncing.

Looking to Francis who was poking around, lips pursing into a thin line, he said. "You're not going to tattle on me for not spending it all on jewels and silk, are you?"

"Your generosity is safe with me." The brother reassured. "Be thankful Leon's not here to report back to him. Though you should have bought some more courtly fashion to appease him."

"That's coming tomorrow, you can thank Auntie for needling me into a few suits for my stay here." Voice trailing off he furrowed his brows in thought.

"What is it, Master?" Lumiere asked.

"I think that's everything-" suddenly struck with genius Ansell perked and quickly turned around. "Puppy!" He called out.

Having an idea of where it was all going, Chapeau eagerly let the leash go.

The pup charged over, clumsily skidding to a stop and tripping over her paws. Clambering upright, she pawed at his shoes with a wide, oblivious smile. In the few short days she had been with the Prince she had improved greatly.

"Good dog." Scooping the pup up, taking off the lead, he handed the animal over to a coachman.

"Good riddance." His valet muttered to the maitre'd.

"Can you watch her during the trip?" Receiving a head nod, he pulled the large, pink ribbon out of his hair and tied it in a neat bow around the puppy's neck. "May I please have a paper, quill, and ink?" Taking a small pen and ink pot, he thanked the coachman and jotted down the ingredients for the dog's medicine. Carefully waving the note to dry he handed everything over. "Make sure Mrs. Potts gets that, she'll know what to do. And put the hound on Chip's list." Ruffling the dog's ears, he gave a pleased smile towards getting rid of the annoying little thing. At least with Chip she would have someone to play with. "Au Revoir, pup."

The unsuspecting dog panted happily, trying to lick the Coachman.

"Nephew!" Lucette chastised. "Do you not like gifts?"

"No, I like gifts. I _loved_ the scotch you gave me."

* * *

The village's reaction to Pere Robert announcing Gaston's service and accompanying banquet in his honor was mixed. As the priest stood on the platform in the town square, surrounded by villagers, some shook their heads and walked away, others fumed, the triplets wept.

Belle hung back next to a flower stall she could easily duck behind while Stephane and Gustave stood further up near the baker.

"Why weren't we told of this sooner?!" The Headmaster bellowed, stirring up some supporters while his face turned bright red. "How long have they had his body? Keeping him from his final resting place?! This is a disgrace."

"I believe the discovery was recent," Robert said calmly, watching the crowd carefully. He had been tasked with the announcement due to the people seeing him as an impartial voice, though it wasn't the actual case. "The Prince was notified immediately and when he read the report he vowed to cover the costs." Glancing across the crowd, he eyed his favorite bookworm in the back. It was difficult to not be nervous about her hanging around the square when he had vivid memories of being one of the few to reject Gaston's ideas of the beast and the villager's sudden desire to overtake the castle as a giant, mindless, bloodthirsty mob.

"Still isn't right." Clothilde shook her head with a long scowl as others joined her. "You know we wouldn't have had this in the first place if it weren't for that _girl_."

As a dozen or so men agreed, becoming louder and telling the remaining people how they felt, Belle quietly slipped away before she was seen as the crowd became more worked up and opinionated. Her lessons with Stephane and Gustave had been in the early morning, and she had quickly done any errands before Pere Robert made his announcement. Ducking behind a building, she made her way home, hoping to distract herself while things settled down.

Maurice was focused on a sketch as she came in, not even looking up as the door opened. "So how was it?"

"One thing's for certain, no one dies like Gaston." She sighed, shutting the door and leaning her back against it. "Thankfully this time his influence didn't end with pitchforks and threats of lighting the staff on fire. So I'll consider it a marginal improvement."

Furrowing his brow, her father staring at his sketch with displeasure towards his own work. "It's hard for me to believe that a man who tricked them all into storming the castle so he could kill the beast out of spite is still so revered."

"It's a small group of people." She explained, pulling up a chair next to him. "They rile everyone up and make things worse." Slouching in the chair, Belle smoothed out her skirts, fidgeting with her apron. "Honestly it's mostly the Headmaster and Clothilde, neither of them like me."

"That Headmaster is a terrible bully." Maurice bristled.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh, _I know._ "

"That doesn't mean he should be out to get you." Setting his piece of graphite down, Maurice adjusted turned to her. "Have you thought about our discussion?"

"He'd be the last person to let me teach," Belle reminded him. "I have a feeling he'd rather set the school on fire than allow a woman to instruct. Especially a woman who wants to i _ntegrate_ girls into the classrooms and has all sorts of ideas on how to improve the school."

His daughter was frustrated, scowling at the idea of one man denying her of her dream. "Then find a way around it."

Cocking her head to the side, she stared at her father curiously.

"Maybe you don't have to teach at his school." he shrugged, taking a cloth and cleaning his glasses. "But you're very good at instruction, there are several little girls running around the village who know how to read because of you." Watching her mind go to work on the problem, he finished. "I know you, Dear, you're nothing if not resilient and clever."

"The Headmaster will hate me for this."

"Sounds like it's par for the course."

"Oh, I know." A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she mused over the idea of her bully having a conniption.

Maurice chuckled. "Be careful, Belle."

"It's not my fault if it rankles him because of his outdated views." She replied. "Whatever this eventual plan may be." Smiling at him sincerely her voice softened. "Thank you, Papa." tilting forward, she turned her attention back to his sketch. "Have you figured out the inner-design?" Belle asked, leaning over his shoulder and reading the notes for his next music box.

"Nearly." He sighed. "But I can't seem to figure out this element." Rapping his pencil on the table, he pointed to an interior sketch. "I don't think this will support the rest of the box, but it's such a small space to reinforce. Damned thing."

Pursing her lips, she stole the pencil and looked the design over before scribbling down a fresh measurement and rudimentary sketch.

Squinting, he adjusted his glasses. "Belle, that will certainly not- oh that actually works quite well." Surprised he began revising the rest as she smiled. "Thank you." Jotting some notes down he asked. "And what do you have to do today?"

Getting up, she went to tidy up her stacks upon stacks of books. "Hiding from a possible mob and now, apparently, scheming." She announced. "I'm sure I can find other things around here to busy myself with. You?"

"Errands, then I need to take stock of my paints." Stiffly rising with a groan he stretched. "I'll let you know how the town is."

"Thank you."

* * *

"I never took you for a botanist." Francis mused as Ansell carefully set a sprig into a small journal. They were walking the immaculate gardens with Lucette, enjoying the breeze together.

"It's a newer hobby." He announced, thumbing through the pages of his latest finds. Pressed herbs and flowers paired with notes in his gradually improving handwriting.

"Is that what you've been up to when you haven't been dragged about the palace?" Watching the heir, he raised a brow.

"Sometimes." Tucking the book into his breast pocket, the piercing blue eyes swept over the perfectly sculpted hedges. Everything laid out in perfect symmetry, sweeping and fit for the gods. "I also do like taking Cavall out and getting the air. It's much more invigorating than lying about and eating pastries all day."

"That's not the only thing we do lying about." Lucette hinted.

" _Aunt Lucette_." Raising his brows in astonishment his mouth slipped open. "What about Solomon?"

"Oh, I love him dearly. But I would be lying if I said we don't have our own proclivities." Stopping and cupping a rose, she smelled the pure white blossom. "And need I remind you this is _Versailles,_ not a convent in the Alps. When in Rome."

"It's amazing you're so prudish." Francis ribbed. "You used to have quite the appetite and appreciation of the feminine."

"I still do." The prince defended himself. "Just more singularly." Wishing to change the subject, his gaze roamed to the fountain. Far away, past the bubbling stone fish, there was a man in resplendent clothing, being trailed by a massive entourage.

Francis' eyes widened. "I believe that's the king."

"He's a bit of a rare sight," Ansell noted. "It's the first time I've seen him since I've arrived."

"His Highness is in mourning." His aunt reminded him. "I hear he's rarely out unless he's headed to his little harem."

France gave her a magnificent amount of side eye. "It's called _Parc-aux-_ cerfs _."_

"You can call it any frilly little thing you'd like. At the end of the day, he has a house full of virginal girls all to himself."

The great ruler of France disappeared into the maze of greenery, leaving them in silence. "You know, as a ruler, I can't help but stand here and think I should be back at home helping my people."

Francis rocked on his heels as he admired a marble statue. "You were never one for governing unless it meant taking large sums of money and spending it on yourself."

Frowning at the truth, he fought through the guilt that wanted to overtake him like thorny vines winding and wrapping through his body. "True," He composed himself. "And I did little after I transformed back. Lowered rates for renting lands, helped a few struggling families, but just that." Watching his brother's expression shift Ansell could tell that he felt differently. "I need to do something more, a bigger gesture."

"It sounds less like you're governing, more like you're throwing money away." Francis said with a touch of edge in his words. "Money that goes into your family's coffers."

Turning, he stood a bit taller, taking a strong step towards his brother. "But for what? We just spent a small fortune on horses and heels."

"Ansell, one must keep up appearances." Lucette reasoned. "I may fight with your father on many subjects, but as the future ruler of the family's lands it is your duty to keep the coronet solvent."

"And I know I can-"

"This is that damned tax, isn't it?" His brother exclaimed.

"I was greedy-" He pressed.

"And you were thorough enough to have your lawyers draft an iron clad law." He reminded. "One you can't undo, one that flows into our chests."

Frustration broke through as he shook his head. "No, father dispersed the money amongst all of you after after the curse-"

"Well, you must live with your choice." Huffing, Francis turned to stand off with the Prince who was slowly beginning to curl his fingers into fists.

"Be judicious with what your taxes bring in." Lucette's voice was firm, a touch sharp. "You should help the town, but you should have assistance with balancing the money."

"You don't understand, this tax-"

"It's not just you the money goes to," Francis argued.

"If there is excess, then you should locate it," Lucette responded. "However, it would be wise to examine all aspects of your estate's liquidity. And that includes setting some aside for family and emergencies. There might not be as much as you think."

"Emergencies?" Ansell scoffed, gesturing widely around them. "Do you see us going to war with a neighboring province? Everyone is here! Sleeping with each other's wives and getting fat on decadence. And I'm not talking about all of the lands in the province. I merely see to the town near my castle. Father rules the rest, that was his agreement with my mother. It's paltry compared to what he should be bringing in."

"The money _you_ bring in is still important and it's selfish to fritter it away on subjects as you see it!" Francis hissed.

"There is generosity, Nephew, and then there is foolishness," Lucette warned. "Know the difference."

Mulling over her words, Ansell titled his head ever so shrewdly. "And how much do you get?"

A hand flew to her chest. "I never!"

"You certainly like to rile up Father, but you can't tell me Grandpapa didn't set aside some kind of sum for you." Watching her, her eyes slipped to the gravel ground and he scoffed. Lip curling a bit to them both. "Your husband is a Marquis-"

"I absolutely believe in being charitable," She spat defensively, opening her fan with a severe flick of the wrist. "But do not school me on finances."

"You have no idea how this money is tied up!" Francis exclaimed.

"Then I'll aim to find it! Mon Dieu, how much does he take from my lands? To hear it from you, it's as if it's the only thing holding this- this dynasty up." Exhaling forcefully through his nose he shifted his weight and fought the urge to pace. "I will not be goaded into submission on this matter. At the end of the day, it's my money, you've just grown accustomed to the excess he's diverted to you after all of these years he's kept me in exile." Turning away, he massaged the bridge of his nose. "Please understand I don't wish to harm anyone, but I do disagree with how he's handled what my taxes have brought in. I think I can do better, as their ruler, and now I'm beginning to I think he hasn't been exactly truthful about how vital my money is to the family's riches."

Francis shook his head slowly. "Anselme, please don't ruin a good thing-"

"It's not good, Francis. It's broken and I want to fix it."

Closing her eyes Aunt Lucette sighed. "All of this talk of money is so unseemly. Either we change the subject or I find a salon to attend to where I can listen to pretty ideas and drink myself silly."

* * *

Maurice took off his hat as he closed the door. Hearing rustling and jostling towards the back of the cottage. "Sounds like you're keeping busy."

"I am." Belle's voice replied. "Is it any better out there?"

"The coast is clear." He said with a hint of frustration that his daughter had to hide. As the clanging and shuffling became louder, he furrowed his brows and followed the sounds. "Whatever are you-" curiously looking at his daughter going through a cupboard, crate of things on the floor, he watched her upper half come out from inside a particularly deep one that was towards the floor.

Turning, covered in dust, Belle wiped her hands on her apron as she sat on her knees. "Did you get your glasses fixed?"

"Patched, I'm afraid. Kept saying I need new ones, and I suppose I do. Things are getting a touch blurry, however, I don't want to spend that much money at the moment." He told her, setting some supplies he had picked up from a merchant down. Still trying to parse out what she was up to, he scratched his beard. Eyes landing on the crate beside her. "And what exactly are you doing?"

"Well I was away for over a year, so I thought I might tidy up… and then I found out how messy you are without me around." Coughing out some dust, strands of hair falling out of her updo, she caught her breath. "You know, you're not very good at throwing things out."

Realizing what was in her rubbish bin, his face slackened. "All of that is useful!" Hurrying over, he was blocked as she scooped up the crate.

"It's all broken!" She told him firmly, dodging hands trying to wrestle the junk away.

"I can use it for another music box. Belle, give it back."

Pulling it more closely against her, she braced herself for a standoff. "Papa, it's all junk. Even _I_ wouldn't repurpose it."

"But look at this-" Quickly grabbing a hunk of loose parts that in a former life had been someone's pocket watch, he fiddled with it in earnest.

"It's covered in rust," Belle said pointedly.

"It just needs some cleaning!" He explained defensively. "The insides should be fine."

The brown eyes stared at him reproachfully.

Maurice stared back stubbornly.

His daughter raised a brow as an awkward, tense silence filled the house.

Face falling, he reluctantly tossed the watch into the crate.

"Thank you." She said, toting the garbage out.

"If you want junk, you should clear out the shed." Maurice offered, a touch hurt. "The only one who's been in there is Ansell."

"That's next on my list," Belle reported over her shoulder, heading out the door and setting the box on the side of the road to be picked up. Letting out a deep breath of accomplishment, she waved to Agatha before heading to the shed. Dusting her hands together Belle went past the stables, asking Phillipe how his day was going, and stared at the shed with a touch of trepidation. Steeling herself for a mess, she opened the door.

Her eyes widened.

The entire ceiling was covered in bundles of herbs. All hanging on neat lengths of twine, each with a little tag. Reaching up, she read one of the tags. "Rue" in Ansell's scratchy cursive.

Smiling and shaking her head in disbelief, she stared at the fragrant ceiling for several long minutes.

* * *

"Arguing aside, it was a pleasant walk in the gardens with you both." Francis exclaimed as they entered the palace and walking through the glistening halls.

"It is hard to not get heated when it comes to some subjects," Lucette exclaimed, fanning herself as a familiar young woman passed by.

"My Prince," She paused and curtseyed.

He stood there, trying to remember her name. Something with an "E"? She had introduced herself right before he left his party. "Ah yes, Mademoiselle-"

"Elke von Tessmer." she reminded him.

Francis and Lucette watched quietly.

"Yes, of Saxony. Forgive me, I'm dreadful with names." He bowed. "How is your stay at Versailles?"

"Well, though I was hoping to see more of you." She replied demurely.

Aunt Lucette drew her fan up in a way that covered her twitching lips.

"We did come all this way to celebrate your return." von Tessmer explained; all flowing lace, shimmering silk, and a heap of wig.

"Ah, you'll have to excuse my absence." Straightening his posture, he slipped a hand behind his back, wishing to escape. "I can be solitary at times, not one for court. I prefer to read-"

"What a coincidence. Have you seen the library?"

Blinking a few times, Ansell's eyes suddenly brightened. "No, I've been in search of it for some time now. I haven't been able to find it with this palace being the maze it is."

Smiling coquettishly her chin dipped. "I'm more than happy to take you some time. I'm a bit of a bookworm myself and find myself there often. I enjoy philosophy."

Realizing what was happening he bowed his head. Giving a polite, forced smile as his shoulders tensed. "Perhaps another time, Mademoiselle. My day is quite full."

"As you wish, Your Grace."

When the young woman slipped off, his family converged on him. "Well now, she was certainly your type." Francis hinted while they continued walking. "Bookish yet beautiful."

"She's not Belle-"

"She doesn't have to be. Marriage doesn't mean you have to love them, it just means you signed the paperwork." He explained keenly, eyes sliding to his left. "Auntie?"

She fanned herself quickly. "You could at least put on a show, Nephew. And the end of the day you go home to your Belle. For now, you're under your father's scrutiny."

Scowling at them he straightened his waistcoat forcefully. A dull ache beginning behind his eyes. "Of all people-"

"The more you play the game, the less he toys with you and the faster you get back to your castle."

"You make it sound as if being with that young, supple-looking Saxon is such a sacrifice." His brother scoffed. "Surely your mademoiselle would understand you having to take such measures to appease father. He's noticed, you know; your peculiar lack of interest."

Letting out a heavy exhale, Ansell stopped at his apartment door. "Thank you for walking with me."

Displeased with the prince's stubborn streak, they bowed and left as he entered the small parlor that led into his bed chambers. Lumiere and Chapeau stood at the massive, gilded bedroom door, looking like piles of nerves.

"I need to rest." He told them, head sharp with a migraine. "Please draw a bath and bring in some tea, I have a splitting headache."

"Sire-" Chapeau bumbled.

"And do it quickly." Pulling off his wig he handed it to the valet, scratching his scalp and letting out a moan of pleasure from the freedom. "It's so hot under that damned thing."

"Master, your father-" Lumiere gulped.

"That is the _last_ person I want to hear about right now." He growled, grasping the handle of the door, not even waiting for them to open it. "Father this and father that. I can't wait to get out of here and away from this shadow he casts."

"My Prince, you need to know-"

"Please, no reports until I've gotten over this headache." Pulling open the door he began to enter.

"Master!"

"Lumiere! What is-"

He turned to see the two prostitutes waiting on his bed for him.

"Oh."


	22. Chapter 22

Lumiere and Chapeau were sweating bullets while they eyed the display lounging about in the royal bedroom. The maitre'd was the first to step forward, clearing his throat. "Master, compliments of the Duke. He uh… wanted to make sure you knew that."

Ansell's expression was one of dread towards a sight any other man would gleefully run towards, tearing his clothes off in excitement along the way. Glancing over his shoulder as if he wished to be saved by his men, he quickly stepped back and shut the door before the women could coo at him.

"Your Grace-" his valet began.

"What am I supposed to do?!" Everything was suddenly constricting him while he let out a gasp and loosened his cravat. Pressing his back flat against the door, struggling with simply forming a thought, the prince gaped as if a bull was about the ram him into the other room.

"Well, your father certainly wants you to do one thing." Lumiere uttered under his breath.

Ansell gave him a pained look.

"Sire, I wish I could give advice." He replied earnestly, sadly. "All I can say is; if you refuse he'll find out."

Steeling himself, he swallowed thickly, closing his eyes. "I'm not doing it."

"I never suggested you should."

Eyes still closed, he tried his damnedest to relax. Ansell's first inclination was the have a fit; roaring, spitting, and throwing the girls out, then going and starting a row with his father. It took everything for him to not go flying off the handle at the affront to his sensibilities. Taking a deep breath, eyes opening, he wet his lips and gently grasped the door handle, hesitating before entering the room. Muscles taut, he glanced over at the young women; curves in all of the right places, splayed out on his bed like delectable sweets on a platter.

He shuddered.

"Your Grace." One of them purred, sliding off the bed, robe hanging off of her shoulder. "We've heard so much about you."

"And yet I know so little about you, Madame." He tensed, heading over to the side board and pouring himself a generous measure of scotch. "Your services aren't needed h-"

"I am Tatienne." Snaking her hand up to his shoulder she toyed with his jacket. "And my companion is Ygraine."

"You can stop." Ansel knocked back the liquor, hissing through his teeth at the harshness. "I'll make sure you-" Slowly turning around and reaching for the table's drawer, Tatienne pulled him in for an unwanted kiss as Ygraine prowled over, fixated on her prey. Letting out an involuntary groan, he was pushed against the furniture at the same moment her hands found his thigh and moved inward.

He wanted to push her away, yet at the same time...

"There you are." She nibbled, smiling against his neck. "So eager."

Taking a deep breath, he bit his lip when the second woman's gown fluttered to the floor. Struggling, she pinned his shoulders. They were so different from Belle. Not better, but...

"Let us take care of you, My Prince."

Drawing in a sharp breath he pushed her hand away. "Please, I'm not in the mood." Slipping away, suddenly the other was in front of him and Tatienne snaked her arms around his back. "Madame, I-"

Before he could snarl at them, one kissed the Prince passionately as the other nipped and kissed his ear and neck from behind. "It's alright, Your Grace." She breathed against his jaw. "You have needs that must be tended to."

He agonized over it, pushing her hands away. Yet each time another set would stroke him, pet him, pull him closer. Ansell felt drunker and more helpless with each kiss. Heaving, fighting, losing. They were both so warm, and he was so lonely after weeks of having Belle constantly then suddenly being cut off, and it was such an easy habit to comfortably slip back into.

"There," she watched his eyes, hooded and gazing hungrily at her lips. Hands swiftly getting him out of his coat and waistcoat. "Let's get you more-"

Ansell grabbed her forcefully by the hips and kissed her lustily. Pushing her against the side board, he groaned at the woman behind him pressing on his back. She was so ravishing, so inviting. He used to entertain so many women, so many different bodies to sample. It had been so long since-

"Oh, My Prince," Tatienne whispered into his ear from behind, hands yanking down his breeches.

Eyes flying open, Ansell grasped his breeches and shoved her away. Wrenching himself out of the women's arms he panted and fought through the familiar compulsion. "NO." He snapped at them, frantically trying to keep himself from being more undressed.

The women stared at him in disbelief.

"I can't do this!" He panted, grabbing his robe and lashing it down. "I can't!"

"Your Grace-" Tatienne began as she approached him.

"STOP." Ansell ordered, wiping rouge off his mouth and smearing it towards his cheek. Aching in every muscle to take them both and lie about it later. "I said no and _I mean it!_ "

Confused and a touch insulted, the women stood there.

Letting out a roar of frustration, he pounded a fist against the wall, making the women jump backward. Planting his hands against the wall to brace himself, he took a deep breath, heart racing. "Knowing my father, he'll want a report from you." Standing up straight, he forced himself to appear in control. Reaching down, he opened the side table's drawer and pulled out a large leather pouch jangling and heavy with francs. "And I'm sure he's paying you handsomely."

"Well, I've never been so insulted in my life!" Ygraine exclaimed.

"Trust me, if this was ten years ago this would have ended _very_ differently." He reassured, turning and walking over to them. Pressing a generous amount of money into their hands, he looked them sternly in the eye. "Make up whatever you want. Tell him how virile I was. You ask him to send you back, _I'll_ hint I want you back, he'll pay you to see me and each time I'll pay you equal to give him another report about my great conquest."

The two dumbfounded madames stared at him.

"So, you want us to lie about having lots of sex with you-" Ygraine began.

"But you don't want sex?" Tatienne finished.

Still rattled, he raked a hand through his mussed mane. "That's the long and short of it."

"Double the money to not do _anything_?" She repeated skeptically.

"Yes. Though I suppose you'll need to stay here for an hour or so to give the illusion I'm hard at work."

"So what do you wanna do?" The latter asked as she pulled on her gown.

He shrugged, wincing to the amount of blood flow he was still experiencing. "Just stay… here."

While the Prince swiftly dismissed himself to his parlor, the women unceremoniously took a seat on the bed. "He's an odd one." Tatienne puffed.

"Doesn't matter as long as he pays us."

Lumiere gawked at the prince; half dressed, makeup smeared on his face, wide eyed with panic, and looking uncomfortably aroused as he shoved the door open forcefully and slammed it so hard behind him the hinges shook. "Mast-"

"JUST GET OUT!" He barked, turning and collapsing onto the fainting couch, shutting his eyes and groaning in agony as his help scrambled out the door. " _Mon Dieu."_

* * *

Belle pitched the brown water out of her bucket and into the bed of vegetables, shaking it out before walking to one of the town's water pumps. Waiting her turn, she nervously scanned the village. The Gaston supporters, for the most part, relegated themselves to the tavern and she had no desire to go within a hundred feet of it. However, they could still be out and about and sore from the morning's announcement. Reaching the front she pumped the handle and filled the bucket up again, stepping to the side when a family of goats came to drink from the trough.

"Is she finally doing women's work?"

Glaring up, she bristled at the voice as the Headmaster sneered at her from the safety of a group of other men. Averting her eyes, not wanting to fight, Belle gathered her bucket and began to walk away.

"What are you doing, little Mademoiselle?" A goon lumbered over from the pack. "Wouldn't be Gaston's wife but happy to do the work elsewhere?" Lunging, he grabbed the handle.

Glowering at the man, well aware he used to be one of the great Gaston's hunting buddies, Belle shoved the pail at him. The bucket slammed into his generous gut and set water splashing into the ruddy face, making him stumble back. Turning, brown eyes were full of daggers towards the Headmaster, she charged towards him. Her fists clenched, boots pounding on the cobblestones, patience non-existent. "What's your-"

"Annnd I'll take that," Gustave said hastily while he grabbed the bucket from the startled hunter and Stephane seized Belle by the back of the dress.

"Know your place." The Headmaster hissed at her.

Stephane grabbed her from under the arms, hauling her away at the same moment she lunged forward at the Headmaster's order. "Belle!" Dragging her around the corner of the building, he struggled with keeping her from charging back to the water pump. "Belle, listen-"

"Know my place?!" She seethed. "KNOW _MY_ PLACE?!"

"I know! I know!" Pinning her by the shoulders, he got the enraged bookworm to make eye contact with him. "There'll be a time and a place and Gustave and I will most definitely be by your side when we all scream our heads off but today's _not that day."_

"I'm so sick of being treated differently because I'm a girl!"

"You should hear what he says about us." Gustave huffed as he set the pail, freshly filled with water, down.

Catching her breath, she stared at her friends, anger slowly ebbing. "I just want him buried and I want this over with." She exclaimed with vexation. "It's barely been a day but it's like they think it gives them a reason to be even bigger bullies."

"They'll get sorted out," Stephane reassured her. "However, I think it's best if you and I try to not start the next great war over the next few days."

Slouching against the wall, she pursed her lips stubbornly before mumbling. "You're right." Wrapping an arm around her waist she noticed her water bucket. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Gustave replied warmly, turning to his amour. "And you, practicing restraint?"

"You're starting to rub off on me." The swordsman admitted before turning back to their friend. "I know the answer, but I still have to ask- Would you like us to walk you home?"

"No, but thank you. I'll see you around." Giving the least convincing of smiles, Belle slipped off back to the house. Quickly entering and securing the door, she added soap to her water and stirred the mixture until it foamed. Walking the bucket and a pile of rags to the next set of windows she needed to clean, she looked out to see the Headmaster and his cronies strolling and blustering down the road, commanding the space around them. Joking, laughing, unrestrained and untroubled.

"Bullies?"

Belle noticed how white her knuckles were gripping one of the damp rags. "Just the meanest fish in this small pond." She frowned while her father walked up and watched the gang of men meander down the street together. "I try to stay out of the cross hairs but with him and Clothilde, it's every little thing." She fumed. "I think the only way they'd be happy if I was chained to a stove as Gaston's wife with a bunch of children at my feet."

"That wasn't going to happen one way or another," Maurice exclaimed, having to keep his own rare anger in check. Observing the shine and clarity to the windows, taking note of the underlying fury in the keen brown eyes, quickly trying to think of how to assist her in cooling off he said. "Did you have fun terrorizing my scrap collection?"

Relaxing, she forced a smile and chuckled, shaking her head slowly towards how ruffled her father still was. "The house needs a lot more cleaning than I imagined." She said. "Did you dust while I was gone? Just once?"

"No, it seems I was alternating between being in a state of panic or depression and that does little for dust and dirt." Looking at her in a prompting manner, he took a rag that was offered to him, dipping it in the sudsy water. "I take it you went outside? I'll wash, you dry."

"Yes." She grumbled. "I think it's best this laying low continues for awhile."

"I'm so sorry, Dear-"

"It's not your fault. You're not stupid, or mean, or bafflingly sexist." Belle sighed. "And I'll find things to do."

"Like your scheming?" He offered, scrubbing a window before moving to another. "How has that been coming along?"

"There's really not much to scheme about." Knitting her brows in determination she dried off a panel. "If I want to teach, then I do it somewhere that's not the school."

"What about the library at the castle?" He suggested, "one thing's for certain, you'll never run out of books."

"I've thought about that, but, it's too far from the village. The children should be able to walk to class and then back home. It'd have to be somewhere nearby." refolding her rag to a dryer side she glanced at him. "And the house is too small, there's no place for a proper space to do lessons."

"You do have friends around town, you know." Her father reminded her as he worked on a particularly stubborn spot of grime. "Not everyone, as we've discussed. But friends, some very open minded ones."

Belle paused for a moment, her hand sliding down the pane.

"Doesn't the castle own most of the buildings?" he thought out loud. "I bet Cogsworth could help you find a vacancy. Your prince wouldn't mind and I suspect you wouldn't have to pay rent."

"Possibly." She agreed rather absently, going through the entire situation in her mind. "However, I think I should do this on my own. Not rely on his status. I mean, of course, I'll go to the castle and see what supplies I can find. I don't want to not have books or slates. And I'd love to have a map on the wall, some illustrations-"

Maurice smiled warmly at her.

"What?"

"It's just nice to see you chasing what you want."

Tilting her chin down, she blushed. "I really hope I can make it work."

"If you need any help you know where I live." Watching her lips twitch he chuckled. Their playful banter died down and they kept working in silence. Belle's mind wandering away from the idea of starting a school to other topics as they moved their window washing to the other side of the house.

"Have you thought about what I told you?" She finally mustered. "Coming with us?"

Maurice exhaled tiredly.

"Papa-"

"That's not a no." He corrected. "But you have to remember, change doesn't come easily at my age."

"You'd have us. I don't know if you've noticed but we're _both_ rather fond of you." She reassured.

"And where exactly are you two going?" Maurice furrowed his brows. "The world is an awfully big place."

"I think the plan is sticking to Europe, but we're both supposed to investigate and come back with our findings." She explained. "Obviously, he's at an advantage. He's receiving current reports and talking to people who know what's happening in the world. I just have maps and what I can glean from travelers passing through the village."

"And what are your findings telling you?"

Belle slowed her drying, turning to him. "That anywhere where at least one of us can speak the language is so much more promising than staying in France. The only caveat being if we could actually get our marriage approved here, but even then?"

His daughter wore a look of nervousness. "Well, wouldn't that be the best-case scenario? He'd be the new Duke, you the Duchess-"

"I suppose." She hedged uncomfortably.

Mulling it over, he watched how it was very clear Belle had no inclination to be royal. "Technically, you'd start as a princess." He reminded her, using the statement to gauge her feelings. "Like in one of your books."

"I'm not a princess." Trying not to grimace, it still escaped.

He wasn't sure if it was because she didn't wish to be a princess, or she felt she wouldn't pass approval. Either way, Maurice sighed and inspected their work. "You don't have to be one if you don't want to. If you and Ansell want to live in a little village teaching children and drying herbs, then I'll support you two. One hundred percent. And, if you want to be the next Duke and Duchess... well I suppose at that point with an entire province to rule you won't really be needing support but the point is I'll be there, Belle. Because you're my little girl."

"I'll always need your support."

Silently, lovingly, they smiled at one another, sharing the moment. Maurice eventually breaking the silence. "I really should have washed these while you were gone."

"Well, next time I'm taken captive by a monster-"

"Next time? There better not be a next time!" Belle's teasing laugh was a pleasant sound in his ears. "You already have this one hook, line, and sinker. Please don't start all over and put me through this again."

"Not that I was planning to." She reassured cheekily.

"Good, because I like him."

"Me too."

* * *

Ansell stared up at the ceiling as Lumiere crept in. The Prince appearing agonized by defeat while he lay draped dramatically over the fainting couch.

"Lumiere" he kept his eyes to the ceiling "It felt so easy to get back into that habit."

Lumiere clasped his hands behind his back, assessing the situation carefully. It felt so strange to assist the prince, his prince, in navigating the perilous waters of palace chastity. "Old habits are hard to break, Master. It takes effort, and it is not without mistakes."

"I love her so much." Shaking his head the Prince dragged a hand down his mouth. "I would have ruined it! And for what? A pair of harlots my father paid to break me." He scoffed. "All of it just undone because of a moment of weakness." Feeling sick to his stomach he lamented. "she's so wary of me being able to restrain myself. She's so unsure if she could take that kind of… betrayal. I mean, that's what it is for us. It's not like the others, that silent agreement."

"And there is nothing wrong with that agreement, however, it's not for you two." He explained. "It was never going to be easy, not with zee temptations everywhere."

"How could I let myself get so close?" Finally allowing himself to look at Lumiere, the blue eyes were wracked with guilt. "I was willing at one point, Lumiere. I was ready, it only stopped because my conscience kicked it at the very last moment."

"I would consider it a victory." He reassured. "You were tempted but you didn't follow through, no? And now you've learned from your mistake and will do better next time."

Ansell wasn't sold on the pep talk, slumping forward in defeat.

"May I suggest we have that bath drawn? I'll see to your… _guests_... while you relax. You're so very tense, Your Grace."

"I made a deal with them." He grumbled. "I'll match my father's pay if they report back to him that I proved to be… willing." Disdainfully curling his lip, he turned his head away. "They've already been paid for today."

"Very well, I'll remind them before I show them out in a while." Reaching down, he clasped the Prince's shoulder. "You're proving him wrong."

"It doesn't feel like it."


	23. Chapter 23

Tucking a stack of hymnals under an arm, Pere Robert opened the door to find Belle standing in the cooling early fall night, the hood of her cloak up to mask her identity from anyone wandering the streets that night.

"May I?" She asked.

"Well of course." Ushering her in, as soon as the door latched Belle pulled back her hood, chestnut hair unfurling against her nape. The brown eyes leaving him and roaming about the chapel. "And what do I owe the pleasure this late at night?"

Her gaze fell on the magnificent oak casket. He didn't deserve such a final resting place, however, her prince had spared no expense to show honor to the respected member of the community. "I'm obviously not attending tomorrow, but I wanted a look." Belle explained, mind wandering. "I'm so sorry it's late but I didn't want to be seen-"

"Not too late at all. I was just putting on the finishing touches." Gesturing towards the aisle, he said. "By all means."

There were garlands draped over the sides of the pews, leading up to the casket which had an enormous wreath resting atop the ornately carved lid. The flowers woven in were roses, blood red, which amused her to no end. The service would be fit for a nobleman, a great man, not one callous and wicked. A murderer. A brutal monster. It made her furious he would receive such a send-off; flowers and oak and honor. She could see the beast's face as he was shot, then again. And there was Gaston leering; happy to have made his kill. You will marry me, that beast's head on our wall. Poor Ansell; the light dying in his eyes as she cradled his face. Leaving her.

Belle closed her eyes in an attempt to compose herself. Yet all she saw was her beloved being struck and stabbed and shot. Yelping, roaring in pain; trying desperately to get to her. Leaving her when he needed to stay. The darkest night of their lives. An unhealed scar, all because of that brute.

Swallowing thickly she pushed it all away, knowing it would be hard to sleep that night. "It's quite the funeral. No procession?"

"I felt after all that happened there was no need to parade him through the streets like a hero." Pere Robert explained, frustrated with such opulence being bestowed upon a man who barely deserved a wooden cross. "We'll walk him to the cemetery, but that's the extent of it all."

"I heard there's a banquet." She said flatly, reaching out and cupping a rose. Knowing Ansell, the choice of flower had been intentional.

Pere Robert reluctantly nodded his head. "At the tavern. With caskets of wine and platters of beef. Needless to say, I shall not be in attendance."

"I'm sorry you have to do this."

"I'm sorry you had to live through it." He sighed honestly. "But, it'll be over soon. The great Gaston laid to rest. Hopefully allowing us all to move on." Clasping his hands behind his back, he turned to her. "In an attempt to lighten the mood, I was wondering if you were taking pupils?"

Belle tilted her head at him.

"The little Gagne girls, Marie-Jeanne and Pauline, I overheard their father asking about someone teaching them how to read." He explained. "I didn't offer your services nor bring you up as I know things are a little… tense... at the moment." He said. "However, I do know there are a few little girls running around town borrowing my books because of you."

Belle brightened. "I absolutely want to say yes, but I think it's best to wait a few days."

"Understandably." The priest nodded.

"I'll talk to Monsieur Gagne after this has settled." She told him. "As long as we aren't caught learning in public, there shouldn't be a problem." Belle finished testily. Before she could continue and discuss her idea of having a few more pupils there was a quick knock on the door.

Maurice slipped in. "Pere Robert," He tipped his cap, eyes wandering the space, voice becoming terse. "So this is what being a heartless bastard gets you? Quite the funeral for shooting an innocent prince and throwing an old man in an asylum."

"My thoughts exactly." Belle agreed tensely, turning back to her friend. "We've locked the house up and are taking the cart to the castle for a few days. I just wanted to stop by before we left."

"I'm glad you did. And I wish you both a safe trip and a hopefully peaceful holiday."

"Thank you, Pere Robert." Maurice shook his hand. "You know where to find us if they decide to set the house on fire-"

" _Papa._ "

"Kidding, kidding… mostly kidding."

* * *

Maurice walked down to the breakfast table, sketchbook loosely in hand. He had allowed himself the leisure to sleep in and as he passed through the sweeping hallway. The early morning sun trickled in through the enormous windows, giving a stunning view of the gardens and some inspiration as to what his projects would be while on their short vacation away from the village.

"I hope you slept well, Maurice." Mrs. Potts said as she approached, a footman following with a tea tray.

"Very well, and good morning." Sliding into a chair and reaching for the teapot, he stopped as he suddenly remembered the rules. The footman clearing his throat pointedly as he poured the cup for him. "Though I do wish it was under better circumstances."

"You're not the only one." Shaking her head in frustration, she gestured for the tureen of oatmeal to be brought out. "I've heard they haven't been very kind to our girl."

"Not everyone, there are good people but…" Maurice frowned into his clean porcelain bowl as breakfast was set in front of him. "Mrs. Potts, I try so hard to not get involved and allow her to fight her own battles. It's extremely clear she's capable. But as a parent?" Irked, stared up at her in frustration. "It's nearly impossible."

"I understand, Love. You want to protect your little one."

"But my little one fought a man atop a crumbling castle in the dead of night while a mob was trying to storm the palace." He sighed.

"A good reminder that she can handle herself." Mrs. Potts noted, watching Cogsworth hustle towards the door to enter and presumably announce either a problem that affronted him or a triumph that stoked his ego.

Furrowing his brows in thought, Maurice changed subjects. "Whatever happened to Cogsworth and Clothilde?"

Cogsworth froze.

The housemaid stared at him pointedly as he began to sweat. "Why don't you ask him yourself." Catching the majordomo attempting to escape she raised her voice. "Oh, Cogsworth! We were just talking about you."

"Oh." Attempting to appear surprised, he leaned on his cane before reluctantly heading into the room. "And how am I coming up in conversation?"

Maurice felt uncomfortable being the only one seated and naturally wanted to tell them to sit for breakfast. However, he refrained, as it would upset the Englishman. "I was wondering about you and your wife Clothilde. She-"

"She's not my wife." He corrected all too quickly to not be defensive, eyes sweeping to the side at Mrs. Potts. "Years after my dear Yves passed, I took to courting Mademoiselle Clothilde."

"You had been courting her a while." Mrs. Potts reminded him firmly.

"Yes, well..." Moustache twitching nervously he tucked a hand into the space between the buttons of his waistcoat. "I was no longer going to see the Mademoiselle, however, the curse happened as I was about to speak to her. Needless to say, the state of our relationship was… extended." As soon as Maurice looked away, he scowled at Mrs. Potts.

She ignored him. "I don't think she took it well."

"I was as gentle as one could possibly be!"

"I'm sorry it didn't work out, I was just wondering," Maurice explained as untied the leather strip holding his sketchbook closed. "She's been rather testy, and was never a fan of Belle to begin with but-" Pausing, he skimmed the area curiously. "Have you seen Belle? She's a late sleeper but she's normally up by now."

* * *

"Good! Again!"

Belle huffed as she drew up her blade, her footwork a careful circle as she watched Stephane. He moved smoothly across the fencing hall floor, reminding her of a snake sliding towards its prey until it coiled and struck in a burst. He made the first move and she parried, trying her damnedest to keep up with him.

"Watch your wrist." He ordered, effortlessly fending her off. "Come on, I know you have it in you. You were doing so well on Tuesday." Stepping to the side to dodge he smacked her on the arm. "Sloppy."

Gustave looked up from his book, watching the duel before returning to the word he was trying to sound out.

Concentrating, she quickly stepped forward, then back, their foils singing as she concentrated of the duel. Feigning an attack, she moved quickly and struck him in the chest.

"Well look at you!" He stopped, grinning.

"You gave that to me." She puffed in frustration, shoulders slouching tiredly.

"Well... yes but I didn't make it _that_ easy." Quickly, he smacked her on the side of her shoulder. "Why are you slouching? Gaurd up!" Watching her, he grinned at his pupil. Fiesty, eager to prove herself, and not to mention a dear friend. "Belle, that wrist-"

"But this feels like I have contr-" Suddenly her sword went clattering to the ground, her teacher's blade pointed at her. Mouth falling open Belle let out an indignant growl.

"Don't have a stiff wrist. You keep doing that I'll keep knocking the sword out of your hand. Now come on, Belle. En garde!" He watched her and her weaknesses carefully. "Nice footwork, but you're stiffening up your arm now."

"I'm trying." Belle was wearing down and wasn't quite as quick or as clean as she had been at the start. Gliding across the floor, Stephane watched her mind at work. So very clever and trying to keep a step ahead. Watching every jump, thrust, feign, and parry, he stopped her by twisting his blade and circling her own, locking her against his own foil so she was unable to move. "I think we're done for today." He said, his pupil conceding. Turning to the door he bowed at their audience. "Good morning, Monsieur. Are you here to see your daughter be thoroughly trounced?"

"Try harder." Gliding across the floor, Stephane watched her mind at work. So very clever and trying to keep a step ahead. Watching every jump, thrust, feign, and parry, he stopped her by twisting his blade and circling her own, locking her against his own foil so she was unable to move. "I think we're done for today." He said, his pupil conceding. Turning to the door he bowed at their audience. "Good morning, Monsieur. Are you here to see your daughter be thoroughly trounced?"

Belle turned to find her father watching them curiously. "Good morning, Papa."

"Good morning Belle, Stephane, Gustave." He nodded his head. "Dueling before breakfast?"

"We have to go in a bit," Gustave explained, carefully tucking a ribbon into his book about a kitten in a vegetable patch. "So we thought we'd squeeze in a few early morning lessons before having to slip away and sit through the most insufferable funeral the world may ever see."

"And how's our musketeer?" He asked the swordsman, watching his daughter catch her breath. "Besides her thorough trouncing?"

"Cocky." Sheathing his sword he checking his hair to make sure it was still in place.

"What? _My_ daughter? Cocky?"

Belle shot her father a quick, dirty look as she untied her messed hair and began to gather it back up into a neater poytail.

"She needs to remember to loosen her arm," Stephane explained, straightening his waistcoat. "And watch her footwork. I tripped her twice. How are you, Monsieur?"

"Alright given the circumstances. I believe I'll be painting the next few days." Watching Belle, who was red faced, sweating, and wincing, his mouth twitched in amusement when he turned back to Stephane who didn't have a hair out of place. "I hope today isn't too terrible for you two."

"We're not going to stay for the banquet, thankfully." Gustave explained. "Belle, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." Pulling him aside, they went to go discuss his book.

"I'm having Gustave take me out on a picnic," Stephane explained, well aware that as a former Parisian artist Maurice was a bit more open minded than the rest of the village. "Nice bottle of wine, some good cheese, a view that doesn't involve drunks sobbing over Gaston with food in their mouths."

"Wise choice. You know, you two should come back up for dinner tonight." He suggested. "Belle and I can always use the company, and I'm certain Mrs. Potts would love more people to fuss over."

Grinning, Stephane watched as Belle and Gustave returned. "You know, we may very well do just that."

* * *

"I heard you got whipped in fencing."

Belle raised a cagey brow at Mr. Potts as she fed Roman some slices of apple. After changing into a fresh frock after her strenuous fencing lesson, she had wandered the gardens, eventually finding herself in the stables. The air was warm, smelling of sweet hay as the horses were being lovingly tended to. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He chuckled in amusement. "Are you making your rounds?"

Petting the velvet nose she offered up some more apple. "Trying to. I wanted to see my friend, make sure he's feeling better?"

"He's fine. Like I said, everyone and everything that was under the curse caught a bit of something after it was lifted." He explained. "It's a funny thing."

"It's been ten years, maybe everyone has to adjust?" She offered.

"The prince didn't get sick though."

"True, but he wasn't an object." Being nudged by a big snout snuffling for treats, she let Roman smell and lick her hands to show they were empty. "And any rate, I'm glad he's feeling better. Do you think he could be saddled this afternoon?"

Mr. Potts shook his head. "Sorry, Belle. The cold showed us that ol' Roman's getting a bit long in the tooth. He's out to pasture now, though you're welcome to come and see him in his retirement."

Nodding her head she ran her hand up the side of the long face. "You didn't tell me you were an old man." She told the horse, listening to a soft knicker reply back. Before she could ask both Mr. Potts how he was doing, a dozen little shoes could be heard thundering up the path.

The stable master grinned. "You better brace yourself for the siege."

Belle laughed as the children raced in, calling out to her, asking her a million questions all at the same time. "Goodness, good morning!"

"Belle! Mum said you're staying over!" Chip exclaimed breathlessly.

"I am!" gathering up the smallest of the group, she tickled her chin. "Should we play or should we have a story?" The bright little faces lit up and suddenly she heard them all cry out what they wanted. "Alright, alright. How about… we _play_." She began, setting the little one her up. "And _then_ we have a story after lunch?"

The whole group grinned, talking every which way. Every girl and boy eager to tell to their friend everything that had gone on since her absence.

Belle took Chip's hand and turned to Mr. Potts, wide grin on her face. "Sorry, I think I'm being kidnapped."

"Go see to our teacups, we can talk later."

* * *

"The end."

The former teacups all gazed up at Belle on the rug, little faces sinking at the story being over. They had played outside until they were breathless, then been fed by the cook, and Belle had gotten them to settle for a good hour with the book. The pack, normally in a perpetual state of motion, had patiently munched on warm cookies while she read the tale.

"Can you read some more?" A little girl asked, rocking on the rug where she sat.

"I think that's enough for today." Watching all of the sad expressions, she smiled and closed the book. "I'm here tomorrow, we'll have another story time then. Now, is everyone still reading their own books?"

"Some of the words are too big in mine." One of the boys admitted sheepishly, clutching a reader in his hands as the rest of the castle's children headed out.

"Do you want some help?" She asked, looking at the small book in his hands. "We can take a look right now and work on what's difficult."

"We have to go play pirates." He told her, serious about the next activity as if it were his job. "Can you help tomorrow?"

"Of course." Belle smiled, watching him charge off and tell the others to wait up. Rising from the beast-sized armchair she went put the book back on its shelf, the children's stories shelf, and took the time to tidy up some of the messy stacks on the library tables. Maps and books regarding other nations littered the surfaces, as well as reports Ansell had received to brush him up on the state of world politics and history. She had taken them from his desk and had been reading in her spare time, trying to get a sense of the world outside France as well as it's entangled nobility.

The maps and reports were beginning to help her form some sort of plan. And the more she did, the more she hoped she could convince her father to come along. He was getting older, nonetheless, the idea of starting a life far away without him made her heart sick. He needed to be there for all of the important milestones, and Belle was also suspicious about how the Duke would retaliate when he found his heir had disappeared. The worry that often sunk to the bottom of her stomach, keeping her from concentrating on other activities and plans.

Brushing the fears away, Belle skimmed over the maps and sighed while shuffling a stack of notes.

The door opened and her father came in with his easel and other supplies. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"No, of course not. Still life?"

"This room is so beautiful, I'm a bit surprised I haven't done anything in here." He explained, carefully setting his supplies on a table and resting the easel against it. Unrolling a drop cloth, Maurice stooped and began to smooth it out.

Well aware his knees weren't what they used to be, Belle walked over and helped. Unrolling the other rag and laying his paints atop, the pulling on a corner of the drop cloth and setting up the easel.

"Thank you, Dear." Adjusting his glasses, he watched her expression, gears turning behind her eyes. "Anything exciting for the rest of the day?"

"I want to catch up with Mrs. Potts, then I have a few books waiting." She explained, leaning against the table. "I need to keep myself busy."

"Sounds like you have a plan. If you need me you know where to find me."

* * *

"Belle!" Mrs. Potts shooed her away from the silverware.

"I can't just stand here and do nothing while you work." She told her friend, taking a polishing cloth. Sitting in the servant's quarters, the royal silver was laid out in neat rows, each piece awaiting a thorough polishing to bring out its gorgeous gleam. "I'm not a princess."

"But you will be." She watched the young woman's face fall. "Oh, you've never thought of it? Where this is going? Once we find a work around you won't be hiding from nobility while he's off placating the court. You'll be married and coronated and you'll be the mistress of the house. The Princess, and then the Duchess."

The color left Belle's cheeks. "Oh, I can't see myself so formal." Shaking her head she winced discomfort towards the notion at the very thought of being so constricted both in fashion and in tradition. "Not all the time at least."

Mrs. Potts studied the young woman. Not a royal presence, but a strong one. It was hard to imagine the girl done up like a noble. Silks and wigs and corsets. Her bloomers were showing from her tucked in skirts, and her boots were stained from rain water. "You'll learn, you know. We're all here to help when you're finally a princess. And you'll only have to be formal when the occasion arises. No need to stick you in a silk dress every day."

Belle relaxed in relief with Mrs. Potts' reassurances, having grown accustomed to the idea that she and Ansell would never inherit the title. Picking up a fork, she carefully worked in a dollop of polish.

"Your father told me you'd like to teach." Changing the subject tactfully, she watched the young woman brighten immediately.

Chin tilted down to the silverware, her eyes fluttered up as a wide smile spread from ear to ear. "Yes, I'd love to."

"You do a fine job with the children here, why don't you start something in the library?"

"That's certainly been suggested, but I'd like to stay in town." Carefully buffing out the polish she set a serving spoon to the side. "The children need to be able to walk from their houses and I'd like to be able to stay near home. At the very least our prince can ride back in the afternoon."

Belle didn't catch the suspicion winding across the housekeeper's face. The youngsters were rather fond of escaping the palace and royal trappings for a far less luxurious existence.

"Yes," Mrs. Potts began. "He does seem to fancy going back to your house after a long d-" The sounds of horses coming up the path filtered in through the open windows and drew their attention. Getting up, they both went to the windows, discovering a small procession of horses and wagons headed up the path. "Looks as if our Prince has done a bit of shopping." She exhaled, knowing it would be a considerable amount of unpacking. "I'd suspect there's probably something in there for you."

Belle's lips twitched, missing Ansell, but mildly curious as to what the train brought. "You think he wrote a letter?"

"Well it wouldn't hurt to look now would it?"

* * *

The procession stopped near the side of the castle, between the kitchen courtyard and the stables. Servants filtered out to help unpack, John and his workers coming to meet the newest additions to the stables. Skipping down the steps, Belle looked over the caravan as she wandered up to a bright eyed filly, reaching up and giving the horse a curled set of fingers to sniff. She noticed the elegant, fine boned, wild eyed horses from the sultans of Arabia tossing their manes and pawing at the dirt. And there were the thick, heavy Boulonnais draft horses of pure white for the carriages bobbing their necks and snuffling the stable boys for oats.

"I don't think he bought enough." John joked as he was given an envelope. Taking out his reading glasses, he broke the seal and pulled out a letter and a long ledger. "Oh, well this makes things easy." shuffling the papers, he skimmed both. "Belle, it says here you're to take first pick." he spoke up, breaking her concentration. "And not for loan, a horse and saddle for just you."

Belle observed the small, extravagant herd. Flashy and prideful. Feeling a soft snout bump her shoulder, she turned to the sturdy coppery bay she had gravitated to. Out of the entire lot, the filly appeared unremarkable next to all of the equine grandeur. Robust, thick boned enough to pull a cart, yet not too big to ride. "You look friendly." She told the horse. "And sensible." Carefully scratching a cheek before running a palm down the horse's thick neck, watching to check for any temperament issues.

"You want that Norman Cobb?" John asked, knowing the answer for the girl who was more about substance over style.

"I think we'll get along." being the recipient of a soft knicker, she patted the strong neck of the sweet horse that nudged and bothered her for pets and watched as the coachmen and the footmen unloaded crates and bags from the wagon. "This is quite the shopping spree."

"I think all the nobles are encouraged to make purchases when they're in the company of their peers." Mr. Potts explained as he directed his workers to stable the new horses. "Take those over there, James."

"It would show off their wealth." She agreed as she pieced it together.

"There's a saddle for Mademoiselle Belle." One of the footmen noted as they hauled a new rig, tooled with fine roses on the leather, down from the wagon over to the Cobb.

"I think the prince made a guess you'd choose her." John chuckled. "Looks like it's made to be fitted to that filly."

"I suppose he knows my taste." Belle watched the beautiful harness and blanket come down as well. Gently being nosed, she took a carrot from a stable boy and bribed her new companion. "And what's your name, girl?"

"Viola," John announced as he read the ledger for the horses. "And there's a note here saying he thought you might find that amusing?"

Smiling and shaking her head, Belle held onto Viola's halter and began to recite to the horse. "Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house. Write loyal cantons of contemnèd love, And sing them loud even in the dead of night-"

"What was that, Belle?"

"Nothing, Mr. Potts. The prince is just right, it's amusing." Belle watched the crates upon crates of goods being taken into the house. Tilting her head to the side, she watched as three men came out from one of the carriages, looking around the countryside in wonder. Handing Viola over to be stabled, she dusted the fur off of her fingers and walked towards the gentlemen that Mrs. Potts was bustling over to.

"My goodness! We weren't expecting guests!" The Englishwoman exclaimed as she hurried down the steps. "Oh you poor men, I'm having them set up rooms right now. We'll get you settled in no time at all."

"Thank you, Madame-?" An older gentleman with well-worn hands he laced together prompted.

"Mrs. Potts, please." frazzled she had been given no warning, she quickly snapped her fingers and pointed towards the door, sending her maids scurrying away to prepare rooms and warn the kitchen. "Welcome to the castle. May I ask why you've been sent by His Grace?"

"I am Monsieur Savatier." Giving a small bow, he tipped his cap. "I'm the cobbler from the Villanueve His Grace has sent. I was told the children were to be fitted for boots, and to fit the rest of the house too if they are so inclined. At the Prince's cost."

Mrs. Potts drew her hand to her bosom, eyes in shock. "Oh, that sweet, wonderful boy! You're going to make many parents happy, Monsieur." Turning, she eyed a more severe man who was cautiously eyeing the footmen removing carefully marked crates. "And Monsieur, what do we owe the pleasure?"

Turning, a bit taken aback from being broken away from his concentration, he bowed. "Monsieur Fétique, the optometrist. I was sent from Paris, I'm supposed to examine a Henry Cogsworth and craft him new glasses? And examine and produce eyewear for anyone else that requires it."

A warm, astonished smile pulled at the corners of Belle's lips as Mrs. Potts was in a fit of disbelief. She mused about Ansell's generous heart while being so far away from the people he loved. Wanting to take care of them all, his money not going to beautiful things his heart desired, but gifts to help his family.

"I'm here for a Belle Dujardin?" A graying man said, clutching a leather case.

Staring at him curiously, Belle stepped forward. "That's me?"

"Mademoiselle!" He smiled, taking off his hat and dipping. "Jean Martel, professor of literature at Sorbonne. Though I do also dabble in philosophy and history. I was told by Prince Anselme you needed a teacher?"

Brown eyes widening in shock, Belle froze as if she had been struck upside the head.

"I've been instructed to hold classes in the library." He explained, shifting his bag of teaching materials. Watching the young woman, slack-jawed, slowly come around.

A grin broke across her face. "You're really from Sorbonne?" It took everything not to laugh in disbelief.

"One of the newer professors, but yes." He nodded, watching her quietly reel in delight. "I was told you love Shakespeare? I wrote an entire textbook on The Bard. However, I do hope we can discuss other topics."

That dear, sweet, goofy man of hers. She wanted to grab Ansell by the waistcoat and kiss him. Or scream, she truly wanted to scream but it would startle the guests and send Mrs. Potts into a fit. Placing a palm over her mouth she giggled ever so slightly as it was impossible to not let something out before bowing. Monsieur Martel taking her hand and kissing the knuckles. "I look forward to our studies."

"As do I, I heard you're quite well read."

"Probably not as well read as one of your students at the university." She replied. "But I'd love to show you the library later this afternoon."

"More for you- Oh no wait… Oh NO."

Belle furrowed her brows in mild concern as the rest of the staff turned to their stable master's exclamation. "Monsieur Martel, I do hate to be so rude however I think I need to go see if I can be of assistance. Perhaps we can talk later?"

"Of course," he bowed. "I should see where I'm being housed."

"Monsieur!" Cogsworth called out to the professor at the top of the stairs, in a tizzy and unprepared.

Heading over to the carriage of goods, Belle dodged the crates and sacks of things being hauled away and raised a brow to John blustering and arguing with the driver.

"No, you'll have to take it back-"

"Ha! I'm not doing that."

"We're not taking it!"

"I _can't_ simply take something back to the prince. He places things where he sees fit."

Belle stood on her tiptoes to peer over the driver and see what was hiding behind his feet.

Big footed, wet eyed, whimpering from not being cuddled the puppy's ears fell back. Unsure of the angry voices and new surroundings it slunk under the legs of the driver.

"Why can't the castle have a dog?" She asked as the driver scooped the large pup up.

"It's not the castle." Mr. Potts sighed, hanging his head. "The ledger says it's for Chip."

Cocking her head ever so slightly, she waited for the answer.

"Mrs. Potts would crucify me if I gave that to 'im." He lamented, rubbing the bridge of his red nose. "He's brought in all sorts of creatures, and he's _terrible_ at taking care of them. You know how many skinny lizards I've found in jars? Birds with dirty cages? Fish floating in a bowl? He had a mouse once, forgot to lock the cage and Capitane got a hold of the poor thing."

Belle grimaced. "Oh."

"We have a deal with him. No pets at least until he's ten, and even then it's something simple." Sighing heavily, the stable master dragged his hand across his face. "She'll kill me she will. And the prince hates hounds, I have no idea why he'd gift it to Chip. I can't see His Grace choosing to get one."

"His Grace saved the dog." One of the coachmen explained, drawing their attention. "It was to be culled. He took it instead of allowing the kennel master to take care of it."

Belle looked at the pup, squirming and whimpering. Unwanted, unhappy. Belle couldn't stand it staring at the dog beginning to cry. Reaching out, she took the gangly dog and cuddled it to her chest. "Here, let me see." Dodging a pink tongue she ran her fingers through the wiry black fur, noting how big the feet were. "I can probably find a home somewhere in the village if that's alright with everyone."

The driver baulked. "But the Master wrote-"

"The Master can deal with me." Scratching the flopping ears and listening to a happy grunt Belle adjusted the pink bow around its' neck. "You won't get in trouble, I promise."

The Coachman grumbled as Mr. Potts breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, you just saved my hide."

"I had to do something or else you wouldn't be long for this world." She joked. "Do you need any help? It looks like there's quite a few things to sort out."

"We have it under control, but thank you, Belle." John's eyes wandered over to the castle. "Maybe go see to the Missus? She's gonna be fit to be tied with a group of guests no one told her were coming."

"I can certainly do that." Turning, Belle realized it would be awkward hauling around the pup all day. Reaching over she took a length of thin rope that had been left dangling on a rail and tied it into a slip lead, setting the pup down and securing it. Tousling the floppy ears, she stood and looked back up at the driver. Voice ever hopeful. "You wouldn't happen to have a letter for me would you?"

Pulling a stack of envelopes out of his breast pocket, the driver leaned down and handed her one of the thicker ones. "There you are, Mademoiselle."

"Merci." Belle grinned, tucking it into a pocket on her apron. "Come on girl, we're needed elsewhere."

"And take this ledger to Mrs. Potts." John told her, handing over the list. "We got what's ours, I suspect she'll need to go through it for the house. But! Make sure she knows about the puppy not being Chip's. I still want to live."

Laughing, she tucked it in the pocket. "Of course." Feeling a net nose press against her calf Belle turned towards the castle. "Come on girl, we're needed elsewhere."

Maurice wandered down the hall in his painting smock, a smudge of umber on his sleeve. The commotion had drawn him away from his still life, and before him was the castle in a state of hustle. Boxes, crates, and bags were being brought into one of the parlors, strangers were being shuffled upstairs, footmen and maids were racing as if Cogsworth had threatened their hides and Mrs. Potts had said the same yet truly meant it. He could hear horses and voices, orders being shouted from outside as the machine that ran the estate churned to life and began to run once more despite its prince being away.

"Hurry, Giselle!" Mrs. Potts ordered from the parlor where the cargo was being brought. One of the maids darted out, stacks of linens piled in her arms.

Belle raced inside with a large black puppy at her heels.

Maurice furrowed his brows.

She turned and saw how suspicious he was of the sight before him.

Silently he pointed to the dog, eyebrows lifting.

"She's not mine," Belle reassured, the puppy sniffing and straining on its lead.

"Uh, hmmn." He pursed his lips.

She frowned. "It's not like that, I'm going to find her a home."

Scratching his whiskered chin Maurice was wholly, quietly, unconvinced.

Belle ignored her father's expression. "Do you know where Mrs. Potts is?"

"That way." He motioned to the parlor. "You know I'm going to want the entire story as to why you have a small horse on a rope."

"She's not my dog." Walking past him, the hound slipped and hopped across the marble floors, nearly tripping over itself.

"I didn't say a dog, with those feet that thing's clearly going to grow up to be a horse." Maurice didn't know whether to be amused at his daughter's denial or mildly stressed at the thought of the furry invader that was most definitely not going to end up sleeping next to the fireplace at the house.

With a roll of her eyes, Belle slipped into the parlor to go chase down the harried Mrs. Potts.

* * *

 _A/N:_ -Viola: Is the heroine from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Belle recites one of her most famous lines to the horse because Ansell was right, he knows her humor.

-Dujardin: I struggled with the proper surname for Maurice and Belle as I knew it would eventually come up. That said Dujardin means "from the garden"

-Sarbonne: Formally known as the University of Paris. Quite the place! Known for theology and philosophy with many royals, intellectuals, scientists and popes receiving an education there.


End file.
